UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


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THEATRICALS 

SECOND   SERIES 


THEATRICALS 

SECOND    SERIES 

THE  ALBUM     THE  REPROBATE 


BY 

HENRY    JAMES 


NEW   YORK 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 
1895 


- 


fS 


NOTE 

ONE  may  have  a  lively  general  mistrust  of  the  preface 
to  a  work  of  fiction  and  the  explanation  of  a  work  of 
art,  and  yet  recognise  that  an  unacted  play  stands  in 
a  certain  need  of  introduction.  A  play  is  normally 
introduced  the  night  it  is  performed,  and  if  it  has  not 
been  performed  at  all  the  conditions  there  was  a  ques- 
tion of  its  meeting  remain  inconveniently  obscure. 
These  conditions  have  been  those  very  personal  factors 
a  manager  and  his  company.  Of  a  published  play, 
however,  it  cannot  exactly  be  said  that  it  has  not  been 
performed  at  all ;  for  the  disconcerted  author  at  least — 
if,  as  he  has  wrought,  the  thing  has  arrived  at  adequate 
vividness — the  printed  book  itself  grows  mildly  theatrical, 
the  frustrated  effort  approximately  positive.  Anything 
he  may  make  use  of  his  margin  to  superadd  becomes 
therefore  simply  a  substitute  for  the  representation 
originally  aimed  at,  the  particular  representation  which, 
in  its  meagreness  or  its  merit,  would,  for  better  or  worse, 
have  spoken  for  itself.  In  just  the  degree  indeed  in 
which  his  confidence  had  been  qualified  by  that 
prospect,  in  just  that  degree  may  the  naked  text  of  the 
piece,  dragged  ashore  only  to  stand  shivering,  appear 


193409 


vi  THEATRICALS 

to  him    to    plead  for  some  argued  equivalent  of  the 
merciful  curtain  that  was  never  either  to  rise  or  to  fall. 

Of  both  of  these  little  experiments  in  theatrical 
brevity  it  is  as  true  as  of  a  pair  of  others  lately  pre- 
ceding them1  that  if  they  had  not  been  conceived  in 
a  given  emergency  they  would  never  have  been  con- 
ceived at  all.  Their  brevity  was  what  the  occasion 
demanded,  and  there  were  pressing  reasons-  why  the 
author  should  fix  his  eyes  on  lively  simplicity  and 
deadly  directness.  If  it  was  an  hour  for  doing  anything 
at  all  it  was  an  hour  for  doing  something  elaborately 
plain.  Again,  of  course,  as  with  the  other  pieces  to 
which  I  have  alluded,  the  question,  in  the  face  of 
over-estimated  chances,  ultimately  came  up  of  whether 
the  dread  of  supersubtlety  had  not  weighed  too  much. 
It  is  a  question  that  matters  little  now,  but  let  none  of 
the  more,  or  even  of  the  less,  initiated  blame  him  for 
this  fine  scruple,  or  rather  for  this  overmastering  terror, 
in  any  case  in  which  such  a  censor  may  not  personally 
have  learnt  the  lesson  of  that  bitter  humiliation,  that 
unrecorded  anguish  of  the  novice,  the  inexorable,  the 
managerial  "  cut."  Into  the  soul  of  this  particular 
novice,  nourished  in  the  faith  that  brevity  is  intelligible 
only  when  organic,  that  iron  had  entered  deep,  and  the 
consequent  desire  to  make  in  advance,  in  a  new  hazard, 
every  sacrifice  that  might  propitiate  the  god  was  natur- 
ally not  a  stranger  to  this  anxious  cultivation  of  limits. 
The  greater  danger  is  really  doubtless  that  when  one  is 
under  such  a  discipline  one  may,  in  one's  trepidation, 
transport  the  cultivation  of  limits  too  much  to  the 
1  "Theatricals:  Two  Comedies.  i»gC" 


NOTE  vn 

plane  of  subject.  To  treat  a  "  big "  subject  in  the 
intensely  summarised  fashion  demanded  by  an  evening's 
traffic  of  the  stage  when  the  evening,  freely  clipped  at 
each  end,  is  reduced  to  two  hours  and  a  half,  is  a  feat 
of  which  the  difficulty  looms  large  to  a  writer  accus- 
tomed to  tell  his  story  in  another  form.  The  only 
writer  who  can  regard,  and  can  treat,  such  a  difficulty 
as  small  is  the  writer  whose  early  practice  as  well  as 
his  later  has  been  in  the  theatrical  strait-jacket. 

Let  me  not  indeed  speak  of  the  difficulty  of  meeting 
the  requirements  of  the  stage  as  if  for  a  writer,  of  what- 
ever antecedents,  having  any  business  at  all  dans  cette 
galere  it  could  be  anything  less  than  a  fascination.  I 
know  not  whether  for  the  effective  playwright  the  fasci- 
nation be  less  than  for  the  perverted  man  of  letters 
freshly  trying  his  hand  at  an  art  of  which,  in  opposition 
to  his  familiar  art,  every  rule  is  an  infraction,  every 
luxury  a  privation  and  every  privilege  a  forfeiture,  so 
that  he  has  if  possible  even  more  to  unlearn  than  to 
learn  :  certain  it  is  such  a  desperate  adventurer  promptly 
perceives  that  if  the  job  were  easy  it  would  not  be  worth 
undertaking.  It  has  need  at  every  step  of  the  dignity 
of  its  difficulty,  and  its  difficulty,  at  every  step,  is  of  a 
sort  that  the  innumerable  undismayed  are  destined 
complacently  never  to  discover.  One's  first  practical 
demonstrations  of  this  attachment  have  inevitably  some- 
thing of  the  quality  of  the  "  exercise,"  a  statement  particu- 
larly exact  when  they  have  not  been  happy  to  the  end, 
that  end,  I  mean,  of  which  the  beginning  is  the  tuning 
of  the  fiddles.  On  the  one  hand,  doubtless,  one  should 
not  publish  one's  exercises ;  yet  on  the  other  it  is  the 


vni  THEATRICALS 

very  fact  of  publication  that  is  required  so  to  label  them. 
If  the  unacted  play,  in  England,  be  not  quite  hopelessly 
unacted  till  it  is  printed,  so  this  sealing  of  its  doom  con- 
stitutes precisely  the  ground  for  an  obituary  notice. 

Any  composition,  for  that  matter,  is  an  exercise 
when  there  has  been  in  connection  with  it  a  meek  and 
lowly  review  of  the  right  ways  to  keep  on  the  right  side 
of  a  body  of  people  collected  together  at  a  particular 
hour  and  having  paid  money — really  a  good  round  sum 
— to  be  amused.  This  speculative  study  of  what  the 
public,  as  the  phrase  is,  may  in  the  good -humour  of 
that  ferocious  love  of  a  bargain  by  which  it  is  so  healthily 
animated  possibly  "like,"  gives  the  taint  of  the  per- 
functory even  to  the  cleverest  play — and  still  more  of 
course  to  any  that  is  not  the  cleverest.  The  author's 
tact  goes  above  all  to  feeling  for  the  particular  pound 
of  flesh  that  the  Shylock  of  the  box-office  may  happen 
for  the  hour  to  pronounce  best  weight ;  considerations 
coloured  equally  by  the  circumstances  imposed,  the 
circumstances  in  which  the  author  exerts  himself. 
Those  under  which  both  the  entertainments  comprised 
in  this  volume  were  projected,  and  under  which  the 
first  was  partly  and  the  second  fully  elucubrated,  carried 
with  them  a  particular  economy  of  production.  This  is 
indeed  more  or  less  the  prospect  which  every  dramatist 
has  to  face;  the  situation  differs,  however,  with  the 
rigour  of  the  economy — a  term  I  am  far  from  applying 
in  any  invidious  sense.  In  other  words  the  question 
immediately  comes  up  of  the  amount  of  interpretation 
a  piece  may  depend  on  receiving,  a  question  the  answer 
to  which  can  hardly  fail  to  regulate  the  experiment  from 


NOTE  ix 

the  germ.  These  things — the  formula  prescribed,  the 
adjustments  required,  the  direction  imposed,  the 
quantity  of  acting  supplied — are,  taken  together,  the 
star  under  which  it  is  born. 

It  may  help  at  any  rate  to  account  for  what  would 
otherwise  be  inexplicable  in  "  The  Album  "  and  "  The 
Reprobate  "  to  say  that  the  act  of  propitiation  on  their 
behalf  seemed  most  securely  to  lie  in  the  uttermost 
regions  of  dramatic  amiability,  the  bland  air  of  the 
little  domestic  fairy-tale,  a  species  of  which  we  had 
recently  enough  welcomed,  with  wonderment  and  envy, 
sundry  successful  specimens.  It  became  perforce  a 
part  of  that  fascination  of  which  I  spoke  just  now  (in 
connection  with  the  question  of  difficulty)  to  try  and 

"see  with  eye  serene 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine," 

discover  in  other  words  the  secret,  master  the  specific 
type.  The  different  fairies  had  to  be  summoned  to  the 
cradle,  from  the  fairy  Genial  to  the  fairy  Coincidence, 
and  one  was  not  to  feel  the  omens  propitious  till  the 
scheme  bristled  with  as  many  of  these  old  friends  as  a 
nursery-tale.  And  yet  the  nursery-tale  had  to  be 
rigorously  a  comedy — unless  it  should  have  the  good 
fortune  to  prove  rigorously  a  farce.  If  indeed  it  should 
find  itself  striking  for  freedom  in  that  quarter  it  would 
encounter  on  the  path,  with  warning  finger  raised,  the 
incorruptible  fairy  Sentiment.  The  fairy  Sentiment  in 
turn  had  to  mind  what  she  was  about  under  the  eye  of 
the  foul  fiend  Excision,  "  the  blind  Fury  with  th'  abhorred 
shears,"  from  under  whose  feet  every  inch  of  ground 


X  THEATRICALS 

was  if  possible  to  be  cut  in  advance.  Then  the  mixture 
was  to  be  stirred  to  the  tune  of  perpetual  motion  and 
served,  under  pain  of  being  rejected  with  disgust,  with 
the  time-honoured  bread -sauce  of  the  happy  ending. 
Perpetual  motion  would  be  the  tide  floating  the  boat 
off  the  sands  of  the  superficial,  and  the  happy  ending, 
staring  out  of  the  funny  round  eyes  of  the  type  itself, 
was  as  much  designated  as  a  necessity  as  it  was  sup- 
posedly little  foreseen  as  a  result.  Add  to  this  that, 
as  a  door  must  be  either  open  or  shut  and  a  play  be 
either  one  thing  or  the  other,  conformity  to  the  tone  of 
the  particular  variety  had  to  be  kept  well  in  view. 

Authors,  I  fancy,  differ  on  the  point  greatly  from 
managers,  but  it  is  difficult  to  enter  into  the  ethics  of 
an  author  who  is  not  clear  about  the  duty  resting  on 
a  drama,  large  or  small,  to  make  up  its  mind  about 
itself  and  decide  definitely  what  it  shall  pretend  to  pass 
for.  A  comedy  only,  and  nothing  else  but  a  comedy, 
is  a  comedy  ;  likewise,  as  it  can  only  arrive  at  its  dis- 
tinguishing form  if  the  idea  at  its  root  be  a  comedy- 
idea,  so  the  possession  of  this  idea  commits  it  from  the 
first  to  the  responsibility  of  congruity.  It  must  be 
pitched  in  the  key  of  its  nature — for  its  nature  has  a 
key.  If  it  forfeits  its  harmony  with  its  type  it  forfeits 
everything.  But  that  is  all  rudimentary.  Last  not 
least  these  compositions  were  to  have  met  the  pressure 
of  easy  and  early  production.  In  the  case  of  "  The 
Reprobate  "  this  requirement  was  particularly  operative, 
and  the  whole  experiment  was  intensely  submissive  to 
it.  I  hasten  to  parenthesise,  in  connection  with  the 
title  of  the  piece,  which  recalls  so  nearly  that  of  a  con- 


NOTE  XI 

spicuous  contemporary  drama,  that  I  have  ventured  to 
retain  it  because  it  is  worn  in  the  first  place  by  a  thing 
of  mere  drollery — so  far  as  the  miscarried  intention  goes, 
and  in  the  second  by  a  thing  unacted.  If  the  play  had 
been  performed  it  would  certainly  have  been  performed 
under  a  name  less  usurped.  The  author  of  "  The 
Profligate,"  as  the  case  stands,  will  view  with  indulgence 
an  usurpation  of  so  little  practical  import.  The  con- 
venience the  piece  had  to  square  with  was  the  idea  of 
a  short  comedy,  the  broader  the  better,  thoroughly 
simple,  intensely  "  pleasant,"  affording  a  liberal  chance 
to  a  young  sympathetic  comedian,  calling  for  as  little 
acting  as  possible  besides,  skirting  the  fairy-tale,  strain- 
ing any  and  every  point  for  that  agreeable  falsity,  entail- 
ing no  expense  in  mounting,  and  supremely  susceptible  of 
being  played  to  audiences  unaccustomed  to  beat  about 
the  bush  for  their  amusement — audiences,  to  be  per- 
fectly honest,  in  country  towns.  This  last  condition 
was  rigorous  for  both  pieces,  and  the  one  the  author 
took  most  into  account. 

But  his  calculation  to  this  particular  end,  as  well  as 
to  others,  proved  wide  of  the  mark;  which  means 
accordingly  that — like  their  predecessors  and  like  every 
other  dramatic  bid  made  by  the  neophyte  and  not 
taken  up — they  do,  in  an  intenser  degree,  practically 
confess  themselves  exercises.  (It  is  impossible  to  doubt, 
by  the  way,  that  if  more  such  rejected  addresses  were 
only  given  to  the  light,  with  some  history  of  their  adven- 
tures, they  would  end  by  constituting  in  themselves  a 
suggestive,  almost  a  legitimate,  literature  and  adding 
greatly  to  the  lively  interest  taken,  in  our  day,  in  the 


xii  THEATRICALS 

concerns  of  the  English  theatre.)  There  would  be 
nothing  more  to  say  about  this  volume  were  it  not  that 
the  fascination  I  mentioned  above  clings  almost  as  much 
to  the  theory  of  the  matter  as  to  the  practice ;  so  that 
in  regard  to  any  given  collapse  it  may  never  be  quite 
idle  to  glance  at  the  influence  that  has  made  the  exercise 
irretrievably  hollow.  Shall  it  have  been  mainly  that 
terror  of  excision  to  which  I  have  alluded  and  which 
engenders  precautions  that  vitiate  a  scheme  by  making 
it  abound,  so  to  speak,  in  the  sense  of  its  meagreness  ? 
The  hard  meagreness  inherent  in  the  theatrical  form, 
committed  to  think  after  all  so  much  more  of  the  clock 
than  of  the  subject — the  subject  which  runs  so  breath- 
less, so  fearfully  flogged  a  race  with  the  galloping  dial- 
hands — this  danger  of  death  by  starvation  tends  too 
much  to  undermine  the  faith  of  the  neophyte,  tends  to 
make  him  give  up,  as  lost  in  advance  to  his  idea,  the 
advantage  of  development.  From  such  a  renunciation 
to  choosing  the  ideas  that  require  least  to  be  developed 
is,  one  must  fear,  but  a  short  and  specious  step.  The 
most  important  ideas,  he  reflects,  are  those  that  require 
most  looking  after — the  least  important  are  those  that 
require  least.  "You  can't  feed  a  big  stomach,"  he  says 
to  himself,  "  on  a  gobble  between  trains " ;  and  the 
solution  accordingly  seems  to  lie  in  the  region  of  small 
receptacles.  "Give  me  an  hour  more,  just  an  hour," 
he  pleads ;  "  Dumas  and  Augier  never  lacked  it,  and  it 
makes  all  the  difference ;  and  with  its  aid  I  shan't  fear 
to  tackle  the  infinite."  He  does  not  get  his  hour,  and 
he  will  probably  begin  by  missing  his  subject.  He 
takes,  in  his  dread  of  complication,  a  minor  one,  and  it's 


NOTE  xiii 

heavy  odds  that  the  minor  one,  with  the  habit  of  small 
natures,  will  prove  thankless. 

The  only  beauty  of  this  consummation  lurks  probably 
in  the  private  generalisation  it  leads  our  gentleman  to 
make.  Heaven  forbid  we  should  too  rashly  drop  in 
upon  his  private  generalisations  :  those  that  have  gathered 
about  the  kindled  fire  of  our  hypothetical  inquirer  will 
surely  constitute  a  family  party  whose  secrets  it  were 
best  not  to  overhear.  They  are  not  prepared  for  com- 
pany, they  are  not  dressed  to  go  out,  and  some  of  them 
will  certainly  startle  us  in  their  abandonment  of  the 
manners  of  society.  We  must  give  him,  however,  all 
the  benefit  of  the  presumption  that  they  swarm  about 
his  hearth.  These  are  the  associations  that  attach  him 
to  the  insufferable  little  art  with  which  he  is  so  justly 
infatuated  :  ties  of  infinite  reflection  and  irritation,  rela- 
tions of  lively  intimacy  and  of  endless  discovery.  The 
consistent  pursuit  of  it  comprehends,  I  think,  more  private 
generalisations,  more  stores  of  technical  experience,  than 
any  other  aesthetic  errand ;  and  these  secret  hoards  may 
not  unreasonably  be  expected  to  supply  sooner  or  later, 
in  most  cases,  the  ringing  metal  with  which  the  adventurer 
shall  pay  his  way.  It  is  an  expensive  journey — it  costs 
ever  so  much  a  mile.  But  the  nature  of  the  infatuation,  as 
I  have  called  it,  enlivens,  if  it  does  not  shorten,  the  road. 
The  man  who  pretends  to  the  drama  has  more  to  learn, 
in  fine,  than  any  other  pretender,  and  his  dog's-eared 
grammar  comes  at  last  to  have  the  remarkable  peculiarity 
of  seeming  a  revelation  he  himself  shall  have  made. 

The  lesson  consists  for  the  most  part,  as  the  author 
of  these  remarks  has  somewhere  else  ventured  to  express 


xiv  THEATRICALS 

the  matter,  in  the  periodical  throwing  overboard  of  the 
cargo  to  save  the  ship.  The  ship  is  always  in  danger — 
the  most  successful  play  has  come  within  an  ace  of 
sinking,  and  the  peril  recurs  every  night ;  so  that  uni- 
versal sacrifice  is  always  in  the  air.  The  freight,  the 
fittings,  the  ballast,  the  passengers,  the  provisions,  the 
luggage,  the  crew,  the  whole  thing  must  inexorably  "  go," 
and  the  vessel  is  not  in  proper  trim  till  she  is  despoiled 
of  everything  that  might  have  appeared  to  make  her 
worth  saving ;  till  the  last  survivor  in  the  last  rag  of  the 
rigging  has  been  consigned  to  the  fishes,  uttering  that 
shriek  of  despair  which  lives  on  in  the  playwright's  ear 
and  becomes  eventually  the  sweetest  music  he  knows. 
The  scientific  name  of  this  ferocious  salvage  is  selection — 
selection  made  perfect,  so  that  effect,  the  final  residuum, 
shall  become  intense — intense  with  that  sole  intensity 
which  the  theatre  can  produce  and  for  the  sake  of  which 
much  perhaps  will  be  forgiven  it.  There  is  no  room  in 
a  play  for  the  play  itself  until  everything  (including 
the  play,  the  distracted  neophyte  pantingly  ascertains) 
has  been  completely  eliminated.  Then  the  fun,  as  the 
vulgar  phrase  is,  begins.  That  it  will  be  found  to  have 
begun  in  the  present  very  simplified  studies  is  much 
more  than  shall  be  here  predicted ;  but  the  moral  of  my 
observations  is  that,  if  there  have  been  many  occasions 
when  it  was  recognised  as  fast  and  furious,  these  have 
been  conspicuously  occasions  when  the  dramatist  himself 
has  alone  known  (as  he  has  doubtless  alone  cared)  why. 
His  privilege,  his  duty  rather,  is  to  cultivate  that  mystery. 
His  still  more  distinguishing  function,  I  hasten  to  add,  is 
of  course  to  bring  it  about. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


THE  ALBUM         .....  i 

THE  REPROBATE.  .  .  .  .193 


THE    ALBUM 


IN  THREE  ACTS 


CHARACTERS 

SIR  RALPH  DAMANT,  BART. 

MARK  BERNAL. 

TEDDY  ASHDOWN. 

THE  VICAR. 

THE  FOOTMAN. 

GRACE  JESMOND. 

LADY  BASSET. 

MAUD  VANNECK. 


ACT    FIRST 

The  convenient,  inhabited  hall  of  a  handsome  modern  country- 
house,  which  exhibits  several  signs  of  confusion  and  disarray,  as  if 
something  has  happened  to  interrupt  the  regular  routine.  Up  toward 
the  left  the  passage  to  the  outer  hall,  the  entrance  to  the  house,  and 
also  to  some  of  the  apartments.  Up  toward  the  right  the  passage  to 
other  apartments.  Half-way  down,  to  the  right,  a  large  French 
window,  open  to  the  garden  and  park.  Corresponding  to  it,  to  the 
left,  the  door  to  the  library,  constituting  another  entrance  to  the  house. 

Lady  BASSET  enters  briskly  from  the  outer  hall,  in  her  hat  and  mantle,  dressed 
for  a  journey,  carrying  with  her  a  dressing-bag  substantially  stuffed.  She 
places  it  on  one  of  the  tables ;  then  hunting  about  a  moment  finds  a  book 
in  another  part  of  the  room  and,  bringing  it  over,  proceeds  to  pack  it  into 
her  bag.  While  she  is  so  engaged  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  enters  from  the 
outer  hall,  in  his  hat  and  Inverness  cape,  likewise  carrying  a  dressing- 
bag.  In  his  other  hand  he  carries  a  note  in  an  enclosed  envelope.  He 
stops  short  an  instant,  watching  Lady  BASSET. 

TEDDY. 

Is  that  the  second  volume  ? 


LADY  BASSET,  serenely  packing. 

Dear  Maud  has  it.     This  is  the  third.     You  had  better 
take  the  first. 

TEDDY,  coming  down,  putting  his  hag  on  another  table. 

Oh,  I've  read  it ! 


4  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET. 

That  doesn't  matter — it  completes  the  set. 

TEDDY. 

But  it  deprives  the  house — ! 

LADY  BASSET,  her  bag  in  her  hand  ;  now  all  ready  to  go. 

The  house  can  afford  it,  and  in  this  upheaval  it's  an 
advantage  there  should  be  fewer  things  to  lie  about. 

TEDDY,  artless. 

To  "  lie  "  about  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

When   confusion   reigns  I  take  a  line.     There's  not  a 
creature  anywhere — I  carry  my  own  luggage. 

TEDDY,  taking  his  bag  again. 

So  do  I ! 

LADY  BASSET,  perceiving  the  note  in  his  hand. 

You  also  carry  the  letters  ? 

TEDDY,  reading  again  the  superscription. 
Till     I     find     the     Vicar.         (Then   handing  her  the   note,   quoting.) 

"  Very  urgent  "  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  who  has  taken  the  note  from  him. 

Then  why  dorit  you  find  the  Vicar  ? 

TEDDY,  putting  down  his  bag  again  ;  very  vague. 

I'm  looking  ! 


ACT     FIRST  5 

LADY  BASSET,  preoccupied  with  the  note,  which  she  retains. 

Dear  Maud  has  him. 

TEDDY,  startled,  decided. 

Then  I  must  find  dear  Maud. 

LADY  BASSET. 
YOU  WOn't One  never  does.       (Turning  the  note  over  and  round.) 

From  Mr.  Lamb  ? 

TEDDY,  assenting. 

The  solicitor  :  to  be  particularly  attended  to. 

LADY  BASSET,  with  unfaltering  decision. 

I'll  attend  to  it. 

TEDDY,  surprised. 

You'll  read  it  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

When  confusion  reigns  I  take  a  line.     (Then  having  resolutely 

opened  and  reading  the  note)    "  Sir     Ralph    Wires     arrival please 

see  that  he's    met   at  Junction."      (Struck,  thinking.)      Sir 
Ralph  Damant  ? 

TEDDY. 

The  next  of  kin — they've  sent  for  him. 

LADY  BASSET,  thoughtful ;  refolding  the  note. 

The  next  of  kin  ?     I  know — unmarried.     I'll  see  that 
he's  met !     (Then  determined.)     I'll  meet  him  ! 

TEDDY,  still  more  surprised. 

But  you  go  by  the  other  station. 


6  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET. 

I  don't  go.      I  stay. 

TEDDY,  in  suspense. 

And  dear  Maud  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

You'll  take  her  off. 

TEDDY,  eager. 

In  a  moment — if  she'll  come. 

LADY  BASSET. 

But  you'll  first  take  my  bag. 

TEDDY,  with  the  bag  she  has  again  placed  on  the  table. 

Take  it—  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Back  to  my  room. 

TEDDY. 

And  tell  Miss  Jesmond? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Miss  Jesmond's  out.     She's  heartless. 

TEDDY,  blank. 

Heartless  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

With  her  protector,  her  patron,  dying  ! 

TEDDY,  still  more  blank. 

Dying  ? 


ACT     FIRST  7 

LADY  BASSET. 

If  the  nearest  of  kin  is  sent  for. 

TEDDY,  struck ;  rueful. 

What  a  pity  we're  not  near  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

One  is — when  one's  on  the  spot.  I've  been  in  houses 
before  when  the  head  has  been  taken  ill  and  the  guests 
have  scattered  like  frightened  sheep.  But  I  hold  that 
guests  have  duties,  and  I've  always  remained  at  my  post. 

(Seeing  MAUD  VANNECK  :  enter  MAUD  VANNECK  from  the  outer  hall,  dressed 

also  for  travelling.)     Mr.  Bedford's  dying  ! 

MAUD,  in  a  waistcoat,  with  an  eye-glass. 

Already  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Before  one  can  turn  round.  It  has  taken  only  a  summer 
night  to  empty  the  house. 


It  seems  to  me  we  fill  it  a  good  deal !     But  I've  sent 
the  Vicar  for  my  bag. 

LADY  BASSET. 

You  go  with  Mr.  Ashdown. 

MAUD,  after  an  instant. 

And  whom  do  you  go  with  ? 

TEDDY. 

She  doesn't  go.     You  and  I  go  together  ! 


THE    ALBUM 
LADY  BASSET. 


remain — to  act. 


TEDDY,  to  MAUD  ;  explaining. 

for  poor  Mr.  Bedford — to  receive  the  heir. 

MAUD,  struck. 

Is  there  an  heir? 

TEDDY,  taking  his  note  with  quick  compunction  back  from  Lady  BASSET. 

By  the  way,  he  must  be  met ! 

MAUD,  surprised,  ironic. 

By  her  ladyship  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

For  common  decency.     There's  no  one  else  ! 

MAUD. 

Isn't  there  Miss  Jesmond? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Miss  Jesmond  doesn't  count.      A  person  in  her  position 
— a  dependent. 

TEDDY. 

Besides,  she's  out. 

MAUD. 

Only  at  the  station — hurrying  people  off. 

LADY  BASSET,  struck. 

The  Station  ?       (Catching  MAUD'S  arm  and  in  the  inadvertence  of  her   dis- 
composure precipitately  betraying  herself.)      Then   she'll   SCC  him  first  ! 


ACT     FIRST  9 

MAUD,  with  reproachful  superiority. 

Is  it  your  kind  calculation  that  /  shall  see  him  last  ? 

TEDDY. 

Don't  see  him  at  all !     Travel  with  me  !     (Then  as  the  VICAR 
appears.)     Here's  your  bag  ! 

Enter  the  VICAR  from  the  outer  hall  wearing  his  hat  and  carrying  a 
lady's  dressing-bag. 

MAUD. 

Take  it  back  !     (Seating  herself  with  resolution.)     I  remain. 

TEDDY,  seating  himself  in  the  same  manner. 

Then  /  remain. 

LADY  BASSET,  to  the  VICAR;  abrupt,  imperative. 

Take  me  to  the  Junction — it's  your  duty. 

THE  VICAR,  youngish,  bland,  blond,  flustered. 

There  isn't  a  conveyance — everything's  out  ! 

MAUD,  to  Lady  BASSET. 

If  you  go  there,  my  dear,  /go  ! 

TEDDY,  to  MAUD. 

And    if   you    go,    I    gO  !       (Then  to  the  VICAR,  as  Lady  BASSFT  turns 
away  with  a  disconcerted  shrug.)       \7OU     lllUSt     gO tO     meet     the 

heir! 

THE  VICAR. 

Sir  Ralph  ?  he's  coming  ? 


io  THE    ALBUM 

TEDDY. 
This  moment.     (To  get  rid  of  him.)     Go  quick  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

Receive  him  with  all  the  honours. 

MAUD,  laughing. 

Don't  mind  that — leave  the  reception  to  us  ! 

THE  VICAR,  at  a  loss,  with  his  bag. 

But  how  shall  I  get  there  ? 

TEDDY. 

Catch  a  pony — ride  ! 

THE  VICAR,  with  a  happy  thought. 

I'll  run  ! 


Exit  the  VICAR  with  the  bag  to  the  outer  hall. 


TEDDY,  to  MAUD,  amused. 

He  has  sneaked  your  bag  ! 

MAUD. 

Recover  it — take  it  back  to  my  room. 

LADY  BASSET. 

Do  nothing  of  the  sort — take  mine. 

TEDDY,  with  Lady  BASSET'S  bag. 

I'll  take  both  ! 


Exit  TEDDY  to  the  outer  hall. 


ACT     FIRST  ii 

MAUD,  with  dignity  and  resentment. 

That's  not  the  sort  of  girl  I  am  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

What  sort  do  you  mean  ? 

MAUD. 

The  sort  that  goes  up  to  London  with  unscrupulous 
young  men.  You  interpret  strangely  your  pledge  to  my 
absent  mother. 

LADY  BASSET. 

You  talk  as  if  your  absent  mother  were  in  paradise  ! 

MAUD. 

She's  only  at  Zanzibar,  I  know — on  her  tour  round  the 
globe.  But  I'm  none  the  less  entitled  to  your  con- 
scientious care. 

LADY  BASSET. 

Why  then  are  you  so  nasty  when  I  endeavour  to  dis- 
pose of  you  properly  ? 

MAUD. 

Do  you  call  it  disposing  of  me  properly  to  dispose  of 
me  to  Mr.  Ashdown  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

He's  the  only  person  I've  met  who  takes  any  notice  of 

you  ! 

MAUD. 

You  don't  meet  many  people,  I  know,  for  every  one 
runs  away  from  you  ! 


12  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET. 

My  mother  never  did,  my  dear,  as  yours  has  done  from 
you  ! 

MAUD. 

She'll  come  back  as  soon  as  she  receives  the  account 
I've  written  her  of  your  selfishness. 

LADY  BASSET. 

It  doesn't  compare  with  hers,  I  think ;  for  I  accepted, 
when  I  rashly  consented  to  take  you  out,  the  problem 
she  unnaturally  shirked  ! 

MAUD. 

You  took  me  from  cold  calculation — you  knew  I  would 
prove  attractive. 

LADY  BASSET,  protesting,  derisive. 

Attractive  ? 

MAUD. 

To  single  gentlemen — and  others.     And  then   let  you 

get    hold    of    them  !       (After  an  instant,   with  triumphant  emphasis.) 

That's  not  the  sort  of  girl  I  am  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

If  I  had  been  aware  of  the  sort  you  are  I  never  would 
have  lacked  at  you  !  I  cable  to  Zanzibar  that  I  throw 
you  up. 

MAUD. 

You  leave  me  unprotected  ?  Very  well :  I  can  face  the 
usual  dangers  ! 


ACT     FIRST  13 

LADY  BASSET. 

You  seem  highly  familiar  with  them  !     (Then,  after  a  moment, 

in  a  different  tone,  as  if  with  a  new,  superseding  thought.)       Can    yOU  face 

Miss  Jesmond? 

MAUD,  blank. 

What  danger  does  she  present  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

That  of  producing  an  early  impression  on   Sir  Ralph 
Damant. 

MAUD. 

The  gentleman  about  to  arrive  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

The  nearest  of  kin,  the  heir  to  this  lovely  Courtlands. 

MAUD. 

How  are  you  sure  he's  the  heir? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Mr.    Bedford's   to   make   a  new  will.     Mr.   Lamb,   his 

solicitor,  is  with  him. 

MAUD. 

To  make  it  in  favour  of  Sir  Ralph  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

1  Naturally — if  he  has  called  him  to  his  bedside. 

MAUD,  thoughtful. 

Yes ;  he  wouldn't  bring  him  from  London  only  to  cut 
him  off !     But  aren't  there  other  relatives  ? 


14  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET. 

Far-away  kindred — people  with  means  of  their  own. 
used  to  hear  of  them  from  my  husband. 


In  the  improvident  days  when  you  had  a  husband  ! 
Has  no  one  else  expectations  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Miss  Jesmond  has  plenty,  I  suppose  ! 

MAUD,  blank. 

Do  you  mean  he'll  do  more  for  her  ?  Hasn't  she  lived 
on  him  for  years  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

For  the  last  four  or  five.  She  has  enjoyed  every  luxury, 
in  return  for  promiscuous  services  rendered  as  an 
"amanuensis" — functions  mysterious  and  elastic!  But 
as  the  daughter  of  an  old  friend — the  clergyman  who 
was  this  one's  predecessor  and  who  died  without  leaving 
a  farthing — he  may  think  her  a  deserving  object. 

MAUD,  after  an  instant. 

Do  you  mean  she'll  lie  in  wait  for  Sir  Ralph  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

She's  just  that  kind  of  person.  It's  the  way  she's 
dangerous.  Therefore  keep  an  eye  on  her. 

MAUD,  after  another  instant. 

Do  you  set  me  to  watch  her  so  that  you  may  be  free  to 
look  after  Sir  Ralph  ? 


ACT     FIRST  15 

LADY  BASSET. 

I  give  you  my  reasons  for  thinking  that  he  may  be  of 
interest  to  her. 

MAUD. 

But  why  should  she  be  of  interest  to  him  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Because  she's  so  pretty  and  so  clever. 

MAUD. 

Has  she  had  the  Higher  Education  ?  No  ?  Then  she's 
not  a  trained  intelligence  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

I  believe  it  is  an  intellectual  gymnastic  to  cope  with  the 
coldness  of  Sir  Ralph  ! 

MAUD. 

Is  he  so  exempt  from  the  weaknesses  of  his  sex  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

I've  never  seen  him,  but  I've  heard  of  his  peculiar  atti- 
tude— the  dread  of  the  dizziness  of  great  heights.  He 
has  a  terror  of  eminent  women — the  fascination  of  the 
abyss.  It's  a  fixed  idea  with  him  that  if  he  neglects  his 
defences  he  may  some  day  take  the  jump. 

MAUD. 

Find  himself  practically  engaged  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Find  himself  legally  married. 


16  THE    ALBUM 

MAUD. 
Are  there  such  a  lot  of  things  to  marry  him  for  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Figure  them  up  !     A  good  old  title — a  creation  of  Eliza- 
beth.    A  quiet  mind  about  other  women.     A  very  good 

fortune,    and   (with  a  gesture  for  the  whole  place  about  them)    a    VCry 

fine  prospect ! 

MAUD. 

If  he  has  money  enough  to  go  in  fear,  why  does  poor 
Mr.  Bedford  leave  him  more  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

To  increase  his  terror — a  harmless  joke  of  the   dear 
man ! 

MAUD. 

Do  you  mean  because  Mr.  Bedford  himself  has  a  passion 
for  us  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Uncontrolled — but  platonic  !     Besides,  there's  no  other 
cousin. 

MAUD. 

None  at  all  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

There  was  one,  I  believe,  but  he's  lost  to  sight. 

MAUD. 

Trust  him  to  turn  up  ! 


ACT    FIRST  17 

LADY  BASSET. 

They  have  trusted  him,  but  always  in  vain.  He  was 
wild,  he  was  worthless — good  for  nothing  but  America, 
to  which  he  went. 

MAUD. 

If  he  went  he  can  come  back. 

LADY  BASSET. 

Not,  luckily,  from  the  grave — luckily,  I  mean,  for  Sir 
Ralph.  Mr.  Bedford  has  knowledge  of  his  death. 

MAUD. 

And  have  you  knowledge  of  his  name  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

His  name  ?     Mark  Bernal. 

MAUD,  after  an  instant,  rising. 

I  thank  you  for  your  solid  facts.     Very  nice  of  you  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

Haven't  I  justified  my  warning  about  Miss  Jesmond  ? 
MAUD. 

Perfectly.  (After  another  instant,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  has  won  a  diplo- 
matic victory.)  Make  her  your  charge  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  blank ;  then  disconcerted,  indignant,  rising. 

You're  ungrateful — and  you're  sly  ! 

Enter  MARK  BERNAL  from  the  outer  hall. 
VOL.   II  C 


18  THE    ALBUM 

MAUD,  seeing  him  first ;  privately. 

Not  a  bit — see  how  frank  I  shall  be  with  Sir  Ralph ! 

LADY  BASSET,  to  herself,  startled,  turning  ;  taking  in  MARK  BERNAL 
with  emotion  and  surprise. 

Sir  Ralph  ? 

BERNAL,  a  man  of  some  three-and-thirty ;  very  good-looking,  but  of  un- 
conventional aspect  j  with  a  long  fair  moustache,  a  mixed,  informal  suit, 
composed  of  articles  that  don't  match ;  a  soft  hat,  a  light  overcoat  over  one 
arm  and  a  painter's  album,  a  sketch-book  of  moderate  size — new  and  covered 
with  brown  linen — carried  in  the  other :  stopping  short  as  he  sees  the  two 
women,  looking  vaguely  from  one  of  them  to  the  other  ;  then,  eagerly,  as 
he  comes  down. 

My  cousin's  ill  ?     I  heard  in  the  village  how  grave  it  is. 

LADY  BASSET,  solemnly  sympathetic,  but  intensely  gracious 
and  reassuring. 

The  dear  man  suffers,  but  I'm  watching ! 

MAUD,  with  the  same  effusion  of  condolence  ;  very  ingratiating. 

The  party  broke  up ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  (smiling  signifi- 
cantly at  BERNAL)  quite  not  the  moment  to  turn  one's  back  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 
At  the  door  there  was  no  one  to  receive  you  ? 

BERNAL. 

It  stood  wide  open,  and,  as  I  rang  in  vain,  I  ventured 
at  last  to  walk  in. 

MAUD,  seductive. 

You  needn't  have  been  afraid,  with  the  place  as  good  as 
your  own  ! 


ACT     FIRST  19 

LADY  BASSET,  irresistible. 

You  must  let  me  share  your  authority  till  the  servants 
are  again  at  their  posts. 

BERNAL,  who  has  looked,  as  they  alternately  address  him,  in  bewilderment 
and  mystification  from  one  of  the  women  to  the  other. 

My   "authority,"    madam,    is    small,    and   my   title    to 
possession  nil! 

LADY  BASSET. 

You  speak  from  your  characteristic  reserve  ! 

MAUD. 

You'll  find  your  essential  strength  when  you've  seen  Mr. 
Bedford. 

BERNAL,  more  and  more  confounded,  but  also  dawningly  amused. 

My  essential  strength  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  arch. 

You  can't  evade  your  fate  ! 

BERNAL,  blank. 

My  fate  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

The  way  to  learn  it  is  to  let  me  take  you  to  our  honoured 
friend. 

MAUDj  eagerly  interposing. 

Permit  me  to  recommend  your  waiting,  while  this  lady 
goes  to  ask  leave. 

BERNAL,  hesitating  afresh,  thinking,  looking  still,  in  his  guarded  wonder- 
ment, from  one  of  them  to  the  other. 


Is  his  present  state  very  critical  ? 


20  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET. 

Dear  Maud  will  oblige  you  by  ascertaining.  He's  shut 
up  at  present  with  his  solicitor. 

MAUD. 

Inevitably,  alas,  at  such  a  moment,  with  the  future  of 
such  possessions  at  stake  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

Their  commanding  extent  demands  the  presence  of  the 
family. 

BERNAL,  dazed,  echoing. 

The  family  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Reduced  to  you,  happy  man,  though  you  pretend  you 

don't  appreciate  it ! 

BERNAL. 

You  accuse  me  of  pretending,  madam  ;  but  I  won't 
pretend  I  understand  you  !  (After  an  instant.)  Give  me 
time  to  turn  round — I'm  painfully  affected,  (indicating  the 
long  window.)  I'll  go  out  a  moment. 

MAUD,  almost  pouncing  on  him. 

Into  the  air  ?     I'll  take  you  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  baffled  by  MAUD'S  alertness,  looking  round  her  quickly  and 
spying  BERNAL'S  album,  which  he  has  placed  on  a  table  and  of  which  she 
possesses  herself. 

I'll  take  your  charming  companion  ! 

BERNAL,  anxious,  ingenuous,  demurring. 

Then  who'll  be  near  my  cousin  ? 


ACT     FIRST  21 

LADY  BASSET. 

The  vicar,  the  lawyer,  the  doctor,  the  nurse. 

MAUD,  with  a  sarcastic  inflection. 

And  also  Miss  Grace  Jesmond  ! 

BERNAL,  vague. 

Miss  Grace  Jesmond? 

LADY  BASSET. 
A  person  employed. 

MAUD. 

One  of  the  fixtures. 

BERNAL,  innocent. 

She  goes  with  the  house  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Scarcely  to  enhance  its  value  ! 

MAUD. 

She  has  value  enough  to  be  paid ! 

BERNAL,  vague. 

Paid  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Wages.     She  writes  for  the  dear  man,  she  reads  for  him, 
and  I  daresay  she  ciphers  ! 

.MAUD,  who  has  possessed  herself,  officiously,  to  carry  it,  of  BERNAL'S  light 
overcoat  in  the  same  way  that  Lady  BASSET  has  appropriated  the  sketch-hook. 

But  she  hasn't  had  the  Higher  Education  ! 


22  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL,  laughing  and  trying  to  take  his  coat  back  from  MAUD. 
I    haven't    had    it    myself!         (Then  as  she  whisks  away  the  coat, 

escaping  to  the  right.)  Take  care — there  are  things  in  the 
pockets ! 

MAUD,  victorious,  challenging  ;  in  the  long  window  with  the  coat. 

Then  come  and  get  them  ! 

Flirts  out  to  the  park. 

LADY  BASSET,  nursing  the  sketch-book ;  sociably,  while  BERNAL,  at  the 
window,  appearing  to  hesitate,  looks  at  her  an  instant. 

Which  of  us  do  you  prefer  ? 

BERNAL,  clapping  the  empty  pockets  of  his  waistcoat  and  jacket,  as  if  with 
alarm,  successively  and  quickly. 

I  prefer  my  cigarettes  ! 

Exit  BERNAL  by  the  window. 

LADY  BASSET,  disconcerted,  considering. 

Shall    I    follow With    this  ?       (Opening  the  album ;  turning  a  page 

or  two.)       Real    art  ? my    passion  !       (Then  to  herself,  as  she  sees 

GRACE  JESMOND  at  the  left — enter  GRACE  JESMOND  from  the  library — dropping 
the  book  on  a  table  as  if  to  disconnect  herself  from  every  sign  of  the  visitor's 
passage.)  Ah  ! 

GRACE,  back  from  the  station,  in  her  hat  and  jacket ;  stopping  short,  surprised 
at  still  finding  Lady  BASSET,  and  speaking  impulsively. 

You're  not  gone  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  uncompromising. 

And  not  going  ! 

GRACE,  struck,  eager. 

Then  Mr.  Bedford's  better  ? 


ACT,    FIRST  23 

LADY  BASSET,  at  the  window  ;  vicious. 

Mr.  Bedford's  worse  ! 

Exit  Lady  BASSET  to  the  park. 
GRACE,  alone,  dolorous,  interrogative. 

"  Worse  ?  " 

Enter  a  FOOTMAN  from  the  outer  hall. 

FOOTMAN. 
Sir  Ralph  Damant ! 

Enter  Sir  RALPH  DAMANT.     Exit  FOOTMAN. 
GRACE,  instantly,  sadly 

Mr.  Bedford's  worse  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  stopping  short  with  the  force  of  his  contained  emotion. 
Ah  ?      (Then,  after  an  instant,  while  he  has  stood  with  lowered  eyes.)      How 

much  worse  ? 

GRACE. 

Even    a    little    (thinking,  discouraged)    may    be    more    than 
enough  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

How  lately  have  you  seen  him  ? 

GRACE. 

Not  this   morning.      I've   been   at   the  station — seeing 
people  off. 

SIR  RALPH. 
He  has  had  "  people  "  again  ? 


24 

A  large  party. 
Women,  as  usual  ? 
Several  ladies. 
They've  all  gone  ? 
Not  quite  all. 
All  but  you  ? 


THE    ALBUM 
GRACE. 

SIR  RALPH. 
'  GRACE. 
SIR  RALPH. 

GRACE. 

SIR  RALPH. 

GRACE. 


I    don't    gO    (after  an  instant,  with  the  note  of  quiet  irony)    quite   yet. 

And  two  others  remain. 

SIR  RALPH,  with  a  slight  start  and  a  glance  round  him. 

Two  others  ?     Where  are  they  ? 

GRACE,  nodding  toward  the  window. 

I  think  in  the  park. 

SIR  RALPH,  peremptory. 

Then  send  them  off! 

GRACE,  cold. 
I'll  leave  you  to  do  that. 

SIR  RALPH. 

I've  more  immediate  duties — I've  been  sent  for. 


ACT     FIRST  25 

GRACE. 
So  I  heard — before  going  out. 

SIR  RALPH. 

You  range  the  country — with  poor  Mr.  Bedford  dying? 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

I've  not  said  that  he's  dying. 

SIR  RALPH,  perceptibly  pulled  up. 

Then,  pray,  why  was  I  dragged  here  ? 

GRACE. 

I  had  nothing  to  do  with  dragging  you.  His  doctor's 
with  him — and  his  clergyman.  And  Mr.  Lamb,  his 
lawyer. 

SIR  RALPH,  after  a  moment. 

For  testamentary  purposes  ? 

GRACE. 
Very  likely.     It  was  Mr.  Lamb's  idea  to  wire  to  you. 

SIR  RALPH. 
What  does  he  want  me  to  do  ? 

GRACE. 

I  haven't  the  least  idea. 

SIR  RALPH. 

He  shouldn't  trifle  (hesitating)  with  my  habits  !  I've  not 
been  here  for  years. 


26  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE. 
Just  five.     Your  last  visit  was  the  year  I  came. 

SIR  RALPH. 

There  have  always  been  too  many  women. 

GRACE. 

I've  had  the  misfortune  to  be  one  of  them. 

SIR  RALPH. 

"  One "  is  quite  enough.  In  some  cases,  indeed,  too 
much.  I  recognise — in  general — your  inevitable  char- 
acter, but  I  hate  to  be  the  subject  of  manoeuvres. 

GRACE. 
It  must  be  very  odious.     It  has  never  been  my  fate. 

SIR  RALPH. 
I  can  easily  believe  it.     Keep  out  of  them  ! 

GRACE. 
We  can  each — for  ourselves — abstain  from  them. 

SIR   RALPH,  looking  at  her  hard  an  instant. 

That's  exactly  what  I  do !     I  neither  practice  nor  permit 

them.  (Then  after  another  instant,  during  which  GRACE  gives  a  silent, 
decorous,  but  inexpressive  movement  of  assent.)  Have  Other  relations 

been  summoned? 

GRACE. 

Others  ?     I  think  there  are  no  others. 


ACT     FIRST  27 

SIR  RALPH,  gratified,  complacent. 

Only  me  ?     There  are  persons  remotely  connected,  but 
I  appreciate  the  discrimination. 

GRACE. 
Mr.  Lamb,  last  night,  asked  me  a  question. 

SIR  RALPH. 

In  regard  to  your  personal  pretensions  ? 

GRACE,  surprised. 
Mine  ?        (With  genuine  melancholy  dignity.)        What    pretensions 

have  /,  Sir  Ralph  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

You're  the  sort  of  person  who  usually  has  extraordinary 
ones  ! 

GRACE. 

How  do  you  know  what  sort  of  person  I  am  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

I  admit  that  I've  been  reduced  to  speculate.     (After  an 

instant,  somewhat  tentatively.)       I've    WOndered,    for    instance,    if 

you're  paid. 

GRACE. 
For  my  work  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

Or  have  only  your  bed  and  board. 

GRACE. 

And  my  washing  ?     Let  me  relieve  you.     I've  had  a 
salary. 


2g  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH,  relieved. 

Ah,  that  settles  the  question  ! 

GRACE,  vague. 

What  question  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

That  of  your  expectations.     You  took  them  out  in  his 
life. 

GRACE. 

You  speak  as  if  his  life  were  over  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

An  inadvertence.     But  from  the  moment  the  lawyers 
take  the  field —  ! 

GRACE. 
It  was  to  ask  me  about  Mark  Bernal. 

SIR  RALPH,  struck;  vague  an  instant. 

Mark  Bernal  ? 

GRACE. 

Who  was  mentioned  in  an  earlier  will. 

SIR  RALPH,  thinking. 

Little  Mark,  shabby  little  Mark — whom  I  knew  as  a  boy, 
a  small  boy  when  I  was  a  big  one :  my  cousin's  cousin 

and  my  Own  COUSin  ?      (With  extreme  emphasis  and  decision.)      Why, 

all  the  world  knows  he's  dead. 

GRACE. 
Mr.  Lamb's  aware  of  that  rumour. 


ACT     FIRST  29 

SIR  RALPH. 
It  ain't  a  rumour — it's  a  fact ! 

GRACE. 

Requiring  proof.     There  are  four  thousand  a  year — 

SIR   RALPH,  breaking  in. 

Four  thousand  a  year  ? 

GRACE. 
For  somebody  ! 

SIR   RALPH, "after  an  instant. 

Not  for  shabby  little  Mark  ! 

GRACE. 

So  it  would  appear.  Mr.  Bedford,  last  night,  was  not  to 
be  disturbed ;  so  that  Mr.  Lamb's  question  was  as  to 
whether,  during  the  five  years  I've  lived  here,  I  had 
heard  of  any  communication  from  Mr.  Bernal. 

SIR   RALPH,  complacently  affirmative. 

And  you've  heard  of  none  ! 

GRACE. 

None  whatever. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Then  that's  the  proof  required.  Mark's  mother  was  a 
cousin  of  our  cousin — that's  the  degree. 

GRACE. 
The  same  degree  as  your  degree. 


30  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH,  after  an  instant,  as  if  reluctant  to  admit  it. 
The  Same  degree  as  mine.      (Then  with  much  more  alacrity.)      But 

a  connection — undesirable.  They  were  people  of  no 
position. 

GRACE,  ironically  dubious,  surprised. 

Cousins  of  yours  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  totally  unconscious  of  her  irony  :  candidly  confidential. 

I  never  ran  after  them.  The  mother  died,  the  father 
died,  and  Mark,  who  used  to  come  here  for  his  holidays, 
made  a  sad  mess  of  his  prospects. 

GRACE. 
Prospects  ?     What  prospects  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

A  presumptive  interest  in  the  four  thousand.  He  took 
to  low  courses  ;  I  believe  he  took  to  painting  portraits. 
He  wore  queer  clothes  and  knew  queer  people.  He 
was  wild — I'm  convinced  he  was  wicked.  His  tastes 
were  vulgar ;  his  abilities  mean.  He  went  to  the  bottom 
— he  went  to  America. 

GRACE. 

Where — in  the  far  west — he  died,  in  a  brawl,  unap- 
preciated. 

SIR  RALPH. 

But  not  uncommemorated.  (After  an  instant.)  The  papers 
mentioned  it. 


ACT     FIRST  31 

GRACE. 
And  if  they  hadn't  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  pointing  judiciously  the  moral. 

Why,  he  might  have  come  in  for  something ! 

GRACE,  turning  away  with  a  vague  general  sigh. 

It  makes  One  hate  them  !  (Then  seeing  the  VICAR,  and  addressing 
him,  introducing  Sir  RALPH.  Re-enter  the  VICAR  from  the  outer  hall,  heated 
and  breathless,  still  with  MAUD  VANNECK'S  bag.)  Sir  Ralph  Damant. 

THE  VICAR. 

I  missed  you  by  crossing  the  fields  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  distant,  sarcastic,  superior. 

I'm  never  to  be  found  in  the  "  fields  "  ! 

GRACE. 
Will  you  kindly  inform  Mr.  Lamb  ? 

THE  VICAR. 
And  what  shall  I  do  with  the  bag  ? 

GRACE,  amused,  indicating  indulgently  a  place  to  put  it  down. 

Part  with  it — there  ! 

THE  VICAR,  depositing  the  bag  with  scrupulous  care  and  extreme  relief. 

There  !     (Then  up  at  the  right.)     I'll  announce  Sir  Ralph. 

Exit  the  VICAR  to  the  right. 
Re-enter  from  the  outer  hall  TEDDY  ASHDOWN. 


32  THE    ALBUM 

TEDDY,  seeing  the  bag. 
He's     back    With    it?        (Confidingly,  familiarly,   to  both  the   others.) 

Such  a  chase ! 

SIR   RALPH,  struck  with  the  elation  of  his  tone  and  regarding  the  bag — 
conspicuously  and  showily  a  lady's — with  cold  suspicion. 

Pray,  sir,  is  it  yours  ? 

GRACE. 
It  belongs  to  Miss  Vanneck. 

SIR  RALPH. 
And  who  on  earth's  Miss  Vanneck  ? 

GRACE,  up  at  the  door  to  the  outer  hall,  to  TEDDY. 

Your  friends  are  in  the  park.     Instruct  Sir  Ralph  while 
I  see  about  his  room. 

Exit  GRACE  JESMOND. 

TEDDY,  artless,  guileless  ;  producing  his  effects  on  Sir  RALPH 
without  intention. 

Fearfully    clever   girl,    Miss    Vanneck ;    she's    had    the 
Higher  Education. 

SIR  RALPH. 
Mercy ! 

TEDDY. 

A  trained  intelligence.     She  came  with  Lady  Basset. 

SIR  RALPH. 

And  who  on  earth's  Lady  Basset? 

TEDDY. 

Awfully  sharp  too.     She's  waiting  for  you. 


ACT    FIRST  33 

SIR   RALPH,  dismayed. 

Waiting  for  me  ? 

TEDDY. 
She  was  going  ;  but  she  stayed. 

SIR  RALPH,  echoing. 

Stayed  ? 

TEDDY. 

On  purpose  to  meet  you.     She  knows  you're  the  Heir ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Good  God,  I'm  not  the  Heir  ! 

TEDDY,  surprised. 

You're  not? 

SIR  RALPH. 

I  am  ;  but  it's  none  of  her  business  ! 

TEDDY,  innocently  disconcerted. 

Mayn't  I  tell  her,  then  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

Don't  dream  of  it !     Be  so  good  as  to  remain  with  me. 

TEDDY,  who  has  gone  to  the  long  window. 

I  was  thinking  of  joining  "  dear  Maud  "  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

The  trained  intelligence  ?     (As  if  with  a  hopeful  thought.)     Are 
you  in  love  with  it  ? 

VOL.   II  D 


34  THE   ALBUM 

TEDDY. 

I  suppose  that's  what's  the  matter  with  me  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Then  marry  the  creature  ! 

TEDDY. 

She  won't  look  at  me ;  she  wants  a  decent  fortune. 

SIR   RALPH,  after  an  instant. 

What  does  she  call  a  decent  fortune  ? 

TEDDY. 

Four  thousand  a  year. 

SIR   RALPH,  dismayed  again. 

Four  thousand  ? 

TEDDY. 

She  has  fixed  that  figure.     Of  course  I'm  stone  broke. 
My  governor  has  stopped  payment. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Then  make  an  effort — find  something  to  do. 

TEDDY. 

That's  exactly  what  I'm  looking  for ! 

SIR  RALPH. 
Continue  tO  look look  hard  !       (Then,  as  TFDDY  seems  restless.) 

And  whatever  you  do,  stay  here  !     (Encouraging,  reassuring.) 

Sit  down amuse  yourself!       (Looking  round,  nervously,  for  pretexts 


ACT    FIRST  35 

for  detaining,  beguiling  him,  Sir  RALPH'S  eye  falls  on  MARK  BERNAL'S  album, 
which  Lady  BASSET  has  placed  on  one  of  the  tables  and  which  he  takes  up.) 

I  see  you  sketch. 

TEDDY,  seated. 

Oh  yes  ;  I've  the  artistic  nature. 

SIR  RALPH 

Fall  back  on  it ! 

TEDDY. 

I  am  falling  !     I  feel  I've  a  little  gift  that  only  requires 
direction. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Then    direct    it!        (Turning   over   two   or   three   pages   of   the   album; 
patronisingly,  commendingly.)        I   like  the  Steam-roller  ! 

TEDDY,  vague. 

What  steam-roller  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  passing  him  the  open  book. 

That  one. 

TEDDY,  with  the  album. 

It's  not  mine.     (Looking  at  the  cover.)     It's  awfully  like  mine  ! 

(Then  on  his  feet  again.)        It  belongs  (turning  to  the  flyleaf  and  reading) 

to  "  Mark  Bernal." 

SIR    RALPH,  immensely  startled. 

Mark  Bernal  ? 

TEDDY,  unconscious  of  his  start,  continuing  to  read  from  the  page. 

"  Mark   Bernal,    Vandyke   Lodge,    Chelsea ;   September 

'91."         (Then  glancing  again  at  the  outside  of  the  album.)         A    jolly 

new  book. 


36  THE    ALBUM 

SIR   RALPH,  taking  it  back  from  TEDDY'S  hand  and  repeating,  in  his 
guarded  amazement,  interrogatively,  but  mechanically. 

A  jolly  new  book  ? 

TEDDY. 

Dated  last  month.      Who  is  Mark  Bernal? 


SIR    RALPH,  who  has  stared  hard  a  moment  at  the  name  on  the  flyleaf, 
and  then,  looking  up,  presented  a  pale,  alarmed,  conjectural  face. 

I  haven't  the  least  idea  ! 


TEDDY,  to  whom,  recovering  himself  with  a  great  effort,  and  as  if  it  doesn't 
matter  or  mean  anything  to  him,  he  has  surrendered  the  album  again. 

Somebody   has  left    it.        (Then  reverting  to  the  drawing  of  which  Sir 

RALPH  has  spoken.)     By  Jove,  I'll  copy  the  steam-roller  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  uneasy,  as  TEDDY,  with  the  album  under  his  arm, 
goes  to  the  long  window. 

Where  are  you  going  ? 

TEDDY. 

To  join  the  ladies  ! 

Exit  TEDDY  ASHDOWN,  with  the  album,  to  the  park. 
SIR   RALPH,  alone,  deeply  agitated,  wonder-struck. 

Mark  Bernal — last  month  ?     Here,  and  nobody  knows  ? 

(Then,  to  himself,  seeing   the  VICAR  reappear :    re-enter   the  VICAR   from   the 

right.)  Will  he  know  ?  (To  the  VICAR,  eager.)  My  cousin's 
worse  ? 

THE  VICAR,  with  a  memorandum  in  his  hand. 

He  keeps  up — for  Mr.  Lamb — but  the  doctor  deprecates 
his  seeing  you.  Therefore  I'm  desired  by  Mr.  Lamb 
to  put  you  an  important  question. 


ACT    FIRST  37 

SIR   RALPH,  nervous,  anxious. 

An  important  question  ? 

THE  VICAR,  highly  responsible  and  a  little  embarrassed. 

Confided  to  my  discretion — on  the  subject  of  a  relative. 

SIR   RALPH,  more  guarded. 

A  relative  ? 

THE  VICAR,  who  has  again  consulted  his  memorandum  ;  looking  at  Sir 
RALPH,  while  his  pencil  taps  his  chin,  over  his  glasses. 

Mr.  Mark  Moorsom  Bernal. 

SIR    RALPH,  silent,  motionless  a  moment;  then,  with  intensely  studied 
collectedness,  while  he  sees  GRACE  J  ESMOND  reappear. 

What  of  Mr.  Mark  Moorsom  Bernal  ? 

Re-enter,  as  he  speaks,  GRACE  JESMOND  from  the  outer  hall,  with  several  open 
letters  in  her  hand. 

THE  VICAR. 

He's  believed  not  to  be  living. 

SIR   RALPH,  while  GRACE,  who  on  recognising  the  manner  in  which  they 
are  engaged,  has  first  stopped  short  and  then,  on  reflection,  come  down 
discreetly  on  the   side  of  the   stage  opposite  Sir  RALPH'S   and  remained 
there  effacing  herself  and  waiting  J  only  looking  over  her  letters. 

Believed — universally  ! 

THE   VICAR,  re'erring  again  to  his  paper. 

Mr.  Bedford  has  taken  it  for  granted  !  But  it  has 
occurred  to  him,  for  his  completer  satisfaction,  to  cause 
it  to  be  inquired  of  you,  while  he  has  still  power  to 
inquire,  if  any  intimation  to  the  contrary —  (Pausing scrupu- 
lously an  instant,  smiling  bland'y,  explanatorily  at  GRACE.) 


193409 


38  THE   ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 
If  any  intimation  to  the  contrary — ? 

THE  VICAR. 

Has  lately  reached  your  ears. 


SIR   RALPH,   after  a  moment,  during  which  his  eyes  have  met  GRACE'S, 
raised   from  her  letters  fixedly  to  his  own    in  consequence  of  the  VICAR'S 
invitation  to  her. 

No  intimation  to  the  contrary  has  ever  reached  my  ears. 


THE  VICAR,  appreciative,  satisfied,  folding  up  his  paper. 
Most    definite  ;     thank    yOU.         (Then  to  GRACE,  sentimentally,  pro- 
fessionally.)     Awfully  sad  ! 

GRACE,  grave. 

Awfully  !  (Then  to  Sir  RALPH.)  I  came  back  to  tell  you 
that  your  apartment  is  ready  for  you — the  King's  Room, 
as  we  call  it.  As  I've  pressing  letters  to  answer  (indicating 
the  library)  perhaps  the  Vicar  will  kindly  take  you  to  it. 


SIR   RALPH,   reluctant  to  leave   the  room  and  with   an   uneasy  movement 
looking  covertly  about  him  as  if  still  preoccupied  with  the  rapid  disappear- 
ance, the  whereabouts,  of  the  album. 

I  won't  trouble  the  Vicar.    I  remember  the  King's  Room. 


THE  VICAR,  up  at  the  right,  obliging,  punctilious. 

Off  the  main  gallery — three  steps  ! 

Exit  the  VICAR  to  the  right. 
Re-enter  Lady  BASSET  by  the  long  window. 


ACT    FIRST  39 

GRACE,  at  the  door  of  the  library. 

I  leave  you  then  to  Lady  Basset ! 

Exit  GRACE  to  the  library. 
LADY  BASSET,  breathless. 

Mr.  Ashdown   has  just  told   me  it's  you  who  are  Sir 

Ralph  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  staring,  unapproachable. 

Pray  who  else  should  it  be  ? 

LADY   BASSET,  as  if  with  relief  and  rapture. 

I  like  you  the  better  of  the  two  ! 

SIR  RALPH,  blank. 

Of  which  two  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Why,  there's  a  gentleman  passing  for  you  ! 

SIR  RALPH,  aghast. 

Passing  for  me  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Passing  for  the  Heir — it's  the  same  thing  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  after  an  instant. 

Possibly  !     (After  another  instant.)     Where  is  this  gentleman  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

You  must  ask  Miss  Vanneck ;  she  has  designs  on  him. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Designs  ? 


40  THE   ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET. 
Matrimonial.     Fancy  her  crudity  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

I  can  easily  fancy  it !  But  if  he  isn't  me,  who  may  this 
person  be? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Ask  the  man  !     It's  enough  for  me  that  you  are  you  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

It's  enough  for  you,  madam  ;  but  it's  sometimes  too 
much  for  myself!  Your  news  is  not  agreeable  to  me, 
and  I  beg  you  to  permit  me  to  retire. 

LADY  BASSET. 

You're  going  to  your  room  ?  Allow  me  to  show  you 
the  way  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 
I    knOW  the  Way.        (Then  to  settle  the  matter— keep  her  quiet.)        Off 

the  main  gallery — three  steps. 

LADY  BASSET,  delighted. 

Three  steps  ?     So  is  mine  !     I'm  going  to  mine. 

SIR   RALPH,  after  an  instant. 

Then  I  remain.     When  did  this  scoundrel  arrive  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

But  a  moment,  1  judge,  before  yourself. 


ACT    FIRST  41 

SIR  RALPH. 
And  who  else  has  seen  him  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

No  one  but  Miss  Vanneck. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Not  Miss  Jesmond  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Not  Miss  Jesmond.      She's  remiss  ! 

SIR    RALPH,  looking  at  his  watch. 

What's  his  appearance  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Very  fine,  I'm  bound  to  confess.     (Then  significantly.)     But 
you  can  hold  your  own,  Sir  Ralph  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

I  pass  my  life,  madam,  in  trying  to  !     Is  this  interloper 
plausible — artful  ? 

LADY   BASSET,  after  an  instant. 

Ariful — in  a  sense.      He  cultivates  art ! 

SIR  RALPH,  struck. 

He  draws — he  paints  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

In  a  style  of  his  own.      He  had  an  album.     (Looking  about 
her.)     It  was  here. 


42  THE    ALBUM 

SIR   RALPH,  precipitate. 

I    haven't    Seen    it  !         (Theu   after  a   moment's   intense  and   troubled 
thought;  breaking  out  frankly  and  abruptly.)       Will    YOU    grant    me    a 

favour,  madam  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  radiant. 

Every  favour  a  woman  can  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

One  is  enough.     Simply  not  to  mention  that  I've  asked 
you  these  questions. 

LADY  BASSET,  struck,  diplomatic,  considering. 

Not  to  "  mention  "  it  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

To  forget  our  conversation. 

LADY  BASSET. 

That  will  surely  be  difficult!     (Then  after  reflection.)     What 
do  you  offer  me  for  this  failure  of  memory  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

"Offer"  you?     My  gratitude,  madam — my  enlightened 
esteem. 

LADY  BASSET. 

"  Esteem,"  Sir  Ralph,  is  rather  cold.     The  price  of  dis- 
cretion   is    always    high.       (Then,  smiling,  as  he  appears  to  demur.) 

A  woman's  silence,  you  know,  comes  dear  ! 


ACT    FIRST  43 

SIR  RALPH. 

There's  nothing  in  life  so  expensive.     Therefore  I  don't 
haggle  with  you.     I  extend  to  you  my  personal  regard. 

LADY  BASSET,  arch. 

How  "  personal  "  are  you  prepared  to  make  it  ? 

SIR    RALPH,    after  a  moment. 

My  opportunities  shall  show  you. 

LADY  BASSET. 

I  await  the  demonstration  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

On  the  distinct  understanding — ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

It's  ior  you  to  treat  it  as  one  ! 

SIR    RALPH,  at  the  door  to  the  outer  hall  as  that  of  the  library  opens. 

Then  I  begin.     Silence  to  lier  ! 

Exit  Sir  RALPH  rapidly.     Re-enter  GRACE  JESMOND  from  the  library. 

LADY   BASSET,  disconcerted,  blank. 

DOCS  he  Call  that    "beginning"?       (Then  in  a  totally  different  tone 
to  GRACE,  who  has  two  sealed  and  stamped  letters  which  she  takes  straight  up 

to  the  big  letter-box  of  the  house.)     Sir  Ralph's  adorable! 

GRACE,  after  an  instant,  as  she  posts  her  letters. 

Adorable  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

And  Mr.  Bedford  ? 


THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  coming  down. 


He  keeps  up. 


LADY   BASSET,  with  a  shade  of  disappointment. 

No  alteration  ? 

GRACE. 

None  whatever. 

LADY   BASSET,  after  an  instant. 

When  it  conies,  please  let  me  know. 

Exit  Lady  UASSET  to  the  outer  hall. 

Re-enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN,  with  the  album,  by  the  long  window. 
GRACE,  kind,  as  she  sees  the  album. 

Have  you  been  sketching? 

TEDDY,  discouraged. 

I've  been  looking  for  "  dear  Maud  "  ! 

GRACE. 

All  in  vain  ? 

TEDDY. 

High  and  low.      I've  no  heart  for  the  steam-roller ! 

GRACE,  vague. 

The  steam-roller? 

TEDDY,  holding  out  the  album,  which  GRACE  takes. 

There's  one  in  there.     You  should  send  it  after  him. 


After  whom  ? 
Mark  Bernal. 
Mark  Bernal  ? 

ACT   FIRST 
GRACE. 

TEDDY. 
GRACE,  blank. 

45 


TEDDY. 
There's    his     addreSS.         (Then   as  he  perceives  her  surprise.)         He 

hasn't  been  here  ? 

GRACE,  who  has  opened  the  book  and  turned  to  the  flyleaf;  staring, 
astounded,  at  the  inscription. 

Been  here  ?     He's  dead  ! 

TEDDY,  bewildered. 

"  Dead  ?  " 

GRACE,  with  all  her  mystification,  but  a  dawning  relief  and  pleasure 
almost  a  cry  of  exultation. 

He's  alive  !        (Then  as  she  rapidly  turns  the  book  over.)       Where    did 

you  get  this  ? 

TEDDY. 

From  Sir  Ralph  Damant. 

GRACE,  struck. 

Sir  Ralph  Damant  ? 

TEDDY,  increasingly  surprised  at  her  emotion,  at  the  importance  she 
appears  to  attach  to  the  circumstance. 

He  gave  it  to  me.     (indicating  the  table.)     He  picked  it  up 
there. 


46  THE     ALBUM 

GRACE,  staring. 

There  ?     How  did  it  come  there  ? 

TEDDY. 

Blessed  if  I  know  !     No  more  did  he. 

GRACE. 
Did  he  see  this  name  ? 

TEDDY. 

I  read  it  out — I  showed  it  to  him. 

GRACE. 

And  what  did  he  say  ? 

TEDDY. 

He  said  he  didn't  know  the  person. 

GRACE,  after  a  moment. 

How  long  ago  was  this  ? 

TEDDY,  looking  at  his  watch. 

Before  I  went  out — half  an  hour. 

GRACE. 

Are  you  certain  ? 

TEDDY. 

Certain  !     I  noticed  the  clock. 

GRACE,  who  has  stood  a  moment  intensely  wondering  and  thinking,  then  has 
gone  up  impulsively  to  the  right  with  the  album  and,  checking  herself,  come 
down  again. 

Can  you  keep  the  secret  ? 


ACT    FIRST  47 

TEDDY. 
Is  it  a  secret  ? 

GRACE. 

Make  it  one !     Tell  no  one  you've  seen  this. 

TEDDY. 

But  Sir  Ralph  knows  I  have. 

GRACE. 

And  you  know  he  has.     That's  why  I  want  you  to  be 
dumb. 

TEDDY,  staring. 

But  if  he  speaks  ? 

GRACE. 

He  won't  speak  ! 

TEDDY. 

Then  /  won't ! 

GRACE. 

Thank    yOU  !        (Then,  while  MARK  BERNAL,  unseen  by  either,  reappears  : 
re-enter   MARK    BERNAL   by   the   long    window.)          Now    gO    tO     MisS 

Vanneck  ! 

BERNAL,  smiling,  coming  down. 

You'll  find   her  beyond   the  village,  sketching  the   old 

mill  !        (Then  while  the  others,  startled,  stare  at  him  interrogatively,  he  goes 
on,  after  an  inclination  to  GRACE,  soothingly  and  sociably.)        I   posted   llCf 

there  with  a  block  and  a  pencil. 


TEDDY,  precipitate. 

Then  I'll  join  her  ! 


Exit  TEDDY  by  the  long  windc 


48  THE     ALBUM 

BERNAL,  frankly,  amicably. 

I  see  you  have  my  album ;  but  I  had  fortunately  in  my 
overcoat  pocket  another  string  to  my  bow  ! 

GRACE,  after  a  moment,  breathless,  amazed. 

Are  you  Mark  Moorsom  Bernal  ? 

BERNAL,  assenting,  smiling. 

Are  you  Grace  Jesmond  ? 

GRACE,  surpiised,  touched. 

What  do  you  know  of  Grace  Jesmond,  Mr.  Bernal  ? 

BERNAL. 

What  those   ladies,   what  my  brilliant  pupil  out  there, 
have  been  so  good  as  to  tell  me. 

GRACE. 
You've  seen  them — you've  had  time  to  talk  with  them  ? 

BERNAL. 

They  received  me  when  I  came. 

GRACE. 

And  when  on  earth  did  you  come — and  whence  ? 

BERNAL. 

From    London — an    hour   ago.      To   find   a    troubled 
house ! 

GRACE. 

Mr.  Bedford's  very  ill — and  unaware  of  your  presence. 


ACT    FIRST  49 

BERNAL. 

I've  been  taken  for  some  one  else ! 

GRACE. 

Sir  Ralph  Damant?     He  has  just  arrived. 

BERNAL. 

Will  he  see  me  ? 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

It  would   surprise  him  to  do   so  !      He   thinks  you're 
dead. 

BERNAL,  struck,  smiling,  penitent. 

That's  one  for  my  bad  manners  ! 

GRACE,  kind,  impulsive. 

Your  manners  seem  good  enough  !     (Then  after  an  instant.) 
But  you  must  save  your  inheritance. 

BERNAL,  vague. 

My  inheritance? 

GRACE. 

Mr.   Bedford's  making    his  will,  and  you've  a  primary 
title  to  figure  in  it. 

BERNAL,  surprised,  slightly  disconcerted. 

Ah,  Miss  Jesmond,  I  didn't  come  to  life  for  that ! 

GRACE. 

Didn't  you  know  of  your  chance  ? 


50  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
Know  of  it  ?     I  don't  even  understand  it ! 

GRACE. 
Surely  you're  aware  of  the  fewness  of  your  relatives. 

BERNAL. 

I've  been  conscious  mainly  of  a  different  order  of  priva- 
tion ! 

GRACE. 
The  only  person  interested,  as  they  say,  is  Sir  Ralph. 

BERNAL. 

And  you,  Miss  Jesmond — arej0#  not  interested? 

GRACE,  surprised. 

I,  Mr.  Bernal  ?     (Then  after  an  instant.)     I'm  a  servant ! 

BERNAL. 
A  servant  ? 

GRACE. 

I  mean  that  I've  done  my  work  and  had  my  wage.  And 
in  that  useful  capacity,  by  your  leave,  I  should  announce 
your  arrival  to  Mr.  Bedford. 

BERNAL,  demurring. 

Let  him  learn  it,  please,  at  his  convenience. 

GRACE. 
Do  you  think  nothing  of  your  own  ? 


ACT    FIRST  51 

BERNAL,  vague. 

My  own  ? 

GRACE. 

With  his  weakness — time  presses. 

BERNAL. 

If  he's  so  weak,  why  worry  him  ?     I've  neglected  him 
too  long  to  have  rights. 

GRACE. 
I  happen  to  know  that  he  has  had  your  rights  in  mind. 

BERNAL. 

Then  he'll  leave  me  something ! 


Unfortunately  he  supposes    that    they've  lapsed.      But 
from  the  moment  that  lapse  is  repaired — 

BERNAL,  breaking  in. 

He'll  "  remember  "  me,  as  they  say  ?     I  don't  want  to 
be  remembered  as  a  beggar ! 

GRACE. 
You're  no  more  a  beggar  than  others  ! 

BERNAL,  vague. 

What  others  ? 

GRACE. 

There  are  people  who  are  not  here  for  sentiment. 


52  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
You  take  a  kind  view  of  me,  Miss  Jesmoml. 

GRACE,  after  an  instant;  frank. 

I  want  you  not  to  be  sacrificed. 

BERNAL. 

It  would  convey  a  startling  suggestion  of  my  being  good 
for  something  !  I  smoke  pretty  much  everywhere,  but 
I've  never  smoked  on  the  altar  ! 

GRACE. 

If  you're  not  serious  now,  I'm  afraid  you'll  never  be  ! 

BERNAL,  sympathetic,  emphatic. 

Yes — on  the  day  I  can  do  something  to  contribute  to 
your  interests  !  Please  believe  that  I'm  deeply  touched 
by  the  attention  you  give  to  mine. 

GRACE,  after  an  instant,  taking  again  from  a  table  the  album  which  at  the 
beginning  of  the  scene  she  has  laid  on  it. 

DO  yOU    knOW    how  tO    acknowledge    it  ?        (Then  as  he  stares 

while  she  holds  up  the  book.)     By  giving  me  this. 

BERNAL,  blank. 

"  Giving  "  it  to  you  ? 

GRACE. 
Letting  me  keep  it. 

BERNAL,  assenting  with  mystified  amusement. 

For  all  it's  worth  ' 


ACT    FIRST  53 

GRACE. 

We'll  see  what  it's  worth.     (Then  moving  to  go.)     But  every 
moment  counts. 

BERNAL. 

Because  he's  failing  ? 

GRACE. 

He  shan't  fail  ! 

BERNAL. 

If  the  shock  may  hurt  him,  I  decline  the  responsibility  ! 

GRACE,  at  the  door  to  the  right. 

Then  I  '11  take  it ! 

Exit  GRACE  with  the  album. 
BERNAL,  alone. 

What    an    interesting    crisis  —  and    what    an    attractive 
woman  ! 

Re-enter  Sir  RALPH  DAMANT  from  the  outer  hall,  precipitate,  headlong  in  his 
discomposure. 

SIR   RALPH,  with  an  agitated  grievance  that  breaks  out,  beyond  any  other 
preoccupation,  to  the  first  person  he  sees. 

Is  there  no  place  in  the  house  that's  safe  from  her? 

BERNAL,  vague. 

From  Miss  Jesmond  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

From  Lady  Basset !    (Then  startled,  with  a  wild  stare.)    Heavens  ! 
are  you  Mark  Bernal  ? 

BERNAL,  smiling. 

Did  you  know  I  was  here  ? 


54  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 
Never  in  the  world  !     But  your  face  comes  back  to  me. 

BERNAL. 
I  thought  you  thought  I  was  dead. 

SIR  RALPH. 

You  played  the  part  so  well ! 

BERNAL. 

I  indeed  forgot  the  "  house  "  !     But  I  now  feel  as  if  I 
were  making  my  bow  to  it — though   I'm  not  wholly  sure 

I've    had    a    Call  !        (Then  after  another  look  at  Sir  RALPH.)        YOU 

don't  look,  cousin,  as  if  the  call  had  come  from  you/ 

SIR  RALPH. 

I'm  not  fond  of  theatricals  :  I  go  in  for  the  real  thing. 
Why  have  we  been  elaborately  deceived  ? 


Because  that  was  the  scale  of  your  credulity  !  I  did 
engage,  at  Portland,  Oregon,  in  a  silly  row,  from  an 
honourable  motive,  a  motive  with  a  funny  accent,  but 
with  lovely  appealing  eyes.  I  interfered,  in  other  words, 
in  a  domestic  discussion,  in  the  settlement  of  which  I 
was  left  for  dead  on  the  field. 

SIR  RALPH. 

It  served  you  right ;  you  interfered  on  the  wrong  side  ! 


ACT    FIRST  55 

BERNAL. 

That  was  the  opinion  of  the  lively  local  press,  which,  in 
huge  headlines,  pointed  the  moral  of  my  error.  It 
therefore  remained  silent  when  I  at  last  picked  myself 
up,  for  my  recovery  was  a  different  reading  of  the  lesson. 

SIR  RALPH. 
You  might  have  given  us  a  sign ! 

BERNAL. 

A  sign  of  what  ?  That  I  was  an  ass  ?  You  had  let  me 
suspect  you  knew  it  already  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Yet  you've  faced  us  to-day. 

BERNAL. 

It  has  taken  me  a  month — since  my  return — to  make 
up  my  mind  to  it ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

You  brought  back  a  fortune  ? 

BERNAL. 

Of  exactly  five  pounds ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Don't  you  practise  your  trade  ? 

BERNAL. 

Of  which  of  my  trades  do  you  speak  ?  I've  tried  too 
many — I've  wasted  my  time  ! 


56  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 
You've  been  dissolute  ? 

BERNAL. 
I've  been  universal ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Then  you're  not  a  painter  ? 

BERNAL. 

The  critics  say  so ;  but  I  can't  afford  to  believe  them. 
I've  returned  to  my  early  faith  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Taking  portraits  ? 

BERNAL,  amused. 

At  so  much  a  head  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 
How  much  ? 

BERNAL,  looking  at  him  an  instant ;  then  jocular. 

A  thousand  pounds  !  (Sir  RALPH  gives  a  gesture  of  solemn  dismay, 
and  at  the  same  moment  BERNAL  sees  MAUD  VANNECK.  Re-enter  MAUD  VAN- 
NECK  by  the  long  window ;  on  which  BERNAL  continues,  indicating  her  sociably.) 

My  portraits  are  dear,  but  Miss  Vanneck  can  tell  you  for 
how  little  I  give  lessons  ! 

MAUD,  to  BERNAL,  coming  down  eagerly. 

Introduce  me  ! 


ACT    FIRST  57 

SIR   RALPH,  still  more  peremptory. 


Don't  ! 


BERNAL,  with  a  humorous  want  of  mercy  and  the  gesture  of  presenting. 

Sir  Ralph  Damant — my  favourite  pupil ! 

MAUD,  arch  and  engaging,  to  Sir  RALPH. 

If  he's  nothing  but  a  drawing-master,  you  must  forgive 
my  mistaking  him  at  first  for  you  ! 

BERNAL. 
Now  that  your  error  is  righted,  I  expect  to  be  completely 

neglected  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  much  disconcerted  and  disgusted,  turning  his  back  on  MAUD. 

You  should  keep  your  favourites  in  hand  !     (Then  seeing 

Lady  BASSET  :    re-enter  Lady  BASSET  from  the  outer  hall.)       Ain't    she    a 

favourite  too  ?     For  God's  sake  keep  her  ! 

LADY   BASSET,   who  has  removed  her  hat  and  exchanged  her  travelling- 
dress  for  something  very  smart  and  advantageous ;  smiling  significantly  at 
Sir  RALPH. 

You  see  I've  taken  off  my  things  ! 

MAUD,  presenting,  with  an  undiscouraged  smile,  the  sleeve  of  her  jacket  to 
Sir  RALPH. 

Sir  Ralph  himself  will  kindly  take  off  mine  ! 


Sir  RALPH  makes  a  gesture  of  incorruptible  austerity,  and  TEDDY  ASHDOWN,  at 
the  moment  MAUD  speaks,  re-enters  by  the  long  window. 


TEDDY,  rushing  forward,  assisting  MAUD. 

I  say — that's  my  privilege  ! 


58  THE    ALBUM 

MAUD,  provoked  at  Sir  RALPH  and  in  her  petulance  thrusting  at  TEDDY  a 
long  pin  taken  from  her  dress. 

Then  keep  this  pin  ! 

TEDDY,  wounded  by  the  pin  and  giving  a  start,  a  sharp  cry  while  GRACE 
JESMOND  reappears. 

Aie! 

Re-enter  GRACE  JESMOND  from  the  right. 
GRACE,  on  one  side  of  the  stage  while  BERNAL.  is  on  the  other. 

I've   been   with  the   Doctor,   Mr.   Bernal.     (Then,  after  an 

instant,  grave,  as  the  VICAR  reappears  :    re-enter  the  VICAR  from  the   right.) 

He  sends  the  Vicar  with  a  request. 

THE  VICAR,  flurried  and  formal  as  before,  addressing  them  all. 

I  request  your  indulgence  for  my  errand.  The  Doctor 
considers  that  a  high  standard  of  tranquillity  has  not 
been  successfully  maintained. 

BERNAL,  solicitous,  precipitate. 

Of  course  we're  an  awful  nuisance — do  tell  him  I'll  go 
this  moment ! 

GRACE,  promptly  interposing. 

Mr.  Bernal — please  remain  ! 

THE  VICAR. 

We  must  part — reluctantly! — with  those  who've  so 
conscientiously — 

GRACE,  helping  him  out. 

Misconceived  their  duty.  Lady  Basset  and  Miss  Van- 
neck  will  find  a  carriage  at  the  door. 


ACT    FIRST  59 

LADY  BASSET,  deeply  disconcerted  and  disgusted,  looks  resentfully  from 
GRACE  J  ESMOND  to  the  VICAR  ;  then  with  the  movement  of  accepting  under 
compulsion  an  odious  necessity,  turns  expressively  to  Sir  RALPH. 

We're  separated  by  violence — but  I  return  to  take  leave 
of  you  ! 

Exit  Lady  BASSET  to  the  outer  hall. 
MAUD,  playfully,  to  Sir  RALPH. 

Not  even  violence,  if  a  single  word — 

SIR  RALPH. 

A  single  word  ?     Farewell ! 

MAUD,  in  the  same  way. 

Ah,  that  is  violence  ! 

TEDDY,  with  frank  alacrity,  to  GRACE. 

I'll  also  go  in  the  carriage. 

GRACE. 

A    moment,    Mr.    Ashdown.      (Then  after  an  instant.)       Sir 
Ralph,  can  we  part  with  Mr.  Ashdown  ? 


SIR    RALPH,  struck  and  surprised,  mystified  and  alarmed  by  her  tone  ;  but 
presently  replying  with  an  impenetrable  face. 

If  I  may  answer  for  myself — without  a  pang  ! 


GRACE,  kind,  to  TEDDY. 

See  to  your  things  then,  and  come  back  and  take  leave 
of  us  ! 


60  THE    ALBUM 

TEDDY,   who  has  been  admiring  MAUD'S  sketching-block,  looking  sociably 
at  BERNAL. 

I  hate  to  take  leave  of  Mr.  Bernal,  because  I  want  him 
to  give  me  a  lesson. 

BERNAL,  vague,  good-humoured. 

A  lesson  ? 

TEDDY. 

In  Miss  Vanneck's  class  ! 

BERNAL,  assenting  amicably  ;  amused. 

Look  me  up  in  town. 

TEDDY,  highly  pleased. 

In  town  ! 

Exit  TEDDY  to  the  outer  hall  with  the  sketching-block. 
THE  VICAR. 

The  Doctor  consents  that  Sir  Ralph  and   Mr.    Bernal 
shall  each  see  his  patient. 

SIR  RALPH,  taking  instant  precedence. 

Then  I  go  ! 

GRACE,  arresting  him. 

A  moment,  Sir  Ralph  !     (To  BERNAL.)     Mr.  Bernal,  you  go 

first.      (Then  as  BERNAL  hesitates,  indicating  Sir  RALPH'S  prior  right.)      I've 

something  to  say  to  Sir  Ralph. 

THE  VICAR,  to  BERNAI.  at  the  door  to  the  right. 

This  way  ! 

BERNAL,  to  GRACE,  grave,  hesitating. 

Will  he  know  me  ? 


ACT    FIRST  61 

GRACE. 


Try! 


BERNAL,  at  the  door  to  the  right  ;  his  eyes  on  her  with  the  same  seriousness. 

I'll  try  ! 

Exeunt  MARK  BERNAL  and  the  VICAK. 
GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

The  will's  made ! 

SIR  RALPH,  staring. 

Then  what's  the  use  of  Mark's  going  ? 

GRACE. 

It's  not  too  late  to  make  another. 

SIR  RALPH. 

He'll  hold  out  ? 

GRACE. 

The  Doctor  hopes  so — with  the  sight  of  Mr.  Bernal. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Sufficiently  to  make  the  effort — ? 

GRACE. 
After  a  rest — to-morrow. 

SIR  RALPH,  stupefied;  artless. 

He'll  live  till  to-morrow  ? 

GRACE. 

Possibly  much  longer — with  care.     There  must  of  course 
be  no  drawback. 


62  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 

Won't  it  be  a  drawback  to  see  Mark  ? 

GRACE. 

It  will  be  a  great  joy.  The  drawback  will  be  the  sense 
of  his  mistake. 

SIR    RALPH,  as  if  vague. 

His  mistake  ? 

GRACE. 

His  failure — an  hour  ago — to  be  aware  that,  at  the  very 
moment  he  consented  to  accept  as  certified  the  death  of 
a  possible  legatee,  that  legatee,  by  the  most  extraordi- 
nary of  chances,  had  passed  through  his  house  and 
might,  but  for  a  fatality,  have  stood  beside  his  bed  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

A  fatality  ? 

GRACE. 

That  of  his  having  escaped  observation. 

SIR   RALPH,  conscious,  but  very  emphatic. 

Completely ! 

GRACE. 
And  left  no  sign  of  his  presence. 

SIR   RALPH,  with  the  same  serene  assurance. 

None  at  all  !  (GRACE,  with  an  irrepressible  nervous  movement,  turns 
away  at  this,  and  he  goes  on.)  So  that  OUr  poor  friend  did  accept 

my  cousin's  death  as  certified  ? 


ACT    FIRST  63 

GRACE. 
With  your  attestation  to  sustain  him,  how  could  he  do 

less? 

SIR   RALPH,  complacent. 

My  attestation  was  unconscious  of  its  fallacy  ! 

GRACE. 

Just  as  poor  Mr.  Bernal  was  unconscious  of  your  at- 
testation ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

A  fellow  shouldn't  really  do  such  things  ! 

GRACE. 
Return  so  unexpectedly  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

After  having  vanished  so  finally. 

GRACE. 

There's  no  doubt  he  has  behaved  very  ill ;  so  that  if 
Mr.  Bedford  does  hold  out,  he'll  come  off  better  than 
he  deserves ! 

SIR  RALPH. 
And  if  Mr.  Bedford  passes  away — ? 

GRACE. 

Don't  the  actual  dispositions  take  effect  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  thinking  an  instant;  then  just  a  shade  rueful. 

Unless  Mark  fights. 


64  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE. 
Oh,  he  may  fight ! 

SIR  RALPH,  prompt. 

Do  you  think  he  will  ? 

GRACE. 

That  would  depend  on  his  suspicion  of  how  narrowly  he 
had  missed  his  luck  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  considering,  as  if  objecting  to  the  expression. 

How  "  narrowly  "  ? 

GRACE. 

He  might  guess  that  it  had  hung  by  a  hair. 

SIR  RALPH. 

What  do  you  call  a  hair  ? 

GRACE. 

Why,  your  fatal  answer  to  the  Vicar. 

SIR  RALPH. 
If  it  was  fatal,  madam,  it  was  at  least  perfectly  natural. 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

So  is  Mr.  BernaPs  disappointment ! 

SIR   RALPH,  as  if  with  forced  and  resentful  resignation  to  her 
objectionableness. 

Which  it's  in  your  power,  doubtless,  to  exacerbate  ! 


ACT    FIRST  65 

GRACE,  quiet. 

I   don't    know  what's   in  my  power,  Sir  Ralph !      We 
never  know  till  we  try. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Your  threats  are  in  shocking  taste,  if  Mr.  Bedford's  to 
make  another  will ! 

GRACE. 

Let  us  take  that  quite  for  granted  !    (At  the  door  of  the  library.) 
And  now  I  must  go  back  to  my  letters. 

SIR  RALPH. 

.before  you  do  so  you'll  perhaps  let  me  know  the  motive 

of   this     extraordinary   aggression.        (Then  more  defiant  as,  with 
her  hand  on  the  door  of  the  library,  GRACE  only  stands  looking  fixedly  at  him.) 

What  the  mischief  do  you  mean  by  it  ? 

GRACE,  after  a  moment  more  of  the  same  significant  and  expressive  attitude. 

Can't  you  guess  ? 

Exit  GRACE  JESMOND. 

SIR   RALPH,  alone,  staring,  wondering;  then  as  if  with  a  sudden  vision  of 
the  truth. 

By  all  that's  portentous,  I  can  guess  !    She  wants  to  make 

me    propose  !        (Then  eager,  as  he  sees  MARK  BERNAL  :   re-enter  MARK 
BERNAL  from  the  right.)       Did  he  knOW  yOU  ? 

BERNAL. 

The  Doctor  thought  so.     He  stared  for  a  long  moment, 
dear  man — then  he  closed  his  kind  eyes. 

VOL.   II  F 


66  THE    ALBUM 

SIR   RALPH,  in  suspense. 

Is  he  much  weaker  ? 

BERNAL. 
About  the  same. 

SIR  RALPH. 
Then  he'll  go  on  ? 

BERNAL,  confident. 

If  all  goes  well. 

SIR  RALPH,  considering;  then  after  an  instant. 

And  I'm  to  go  up  now  ? 

BERNAL,  looking  at  his  watch. 

At  one,  please.   (Looking  round  him.)   Where's  Miss  Jesmond  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 
She  has  left  me,  thank  God ! 

BERNAL,  surprised. 

Why  abnormal  gratitude  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

P'or  miraculous  relief.     She  wants  to  marry  me.     She's 
like  the  others. 

BERNAL. 

The  others  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

The  old  woman  and  the  girl.     They've  marked  me,  you 
know.     But  Miss  Jesmond  has  marked  me  biggest. 


ACT    FIRST  67 

BERNAL,  amused. 

In  bright  red  chalk? 

SIR   RALPH,  with  a  nervous  wriggle. 

I  feel  it  between  the  shoulders  !    She's  an  intrigante — of 
a  peculiarly  dangerous  type. 

BERNAL. 

Why,  I  thought  her  so  charming  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

She  has  made  up  to  you  too  ? 

BERNAL,  smiling. 

Like  the  others  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

She's  a  hungry  adventuress. 

BERNAL. 

With  me  it  doesn't  matter ;  I'm  not  worth  their  powder. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Because  you're  poor  ? 

BERNAL. 

Because  I'm  nobody. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Be  duly  grateful.      It  protects  you. 

BERNAL. 

My  dear  man,  I  like  danger  ! 


68  THE   ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 
You  don't  know  it !     To  know  it,  you  must  be  exposed. 

BERNAL. 

I  see — even  as  you  are. 

SIR  RALPH. 

My  position  is  one  of  the  highest  peril. 

BERNAL. 
You're  a  match,  a  catch,  a  swell :  you  pay  for  it ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

I  pay  too  much  and  too  often.  I  pay  with  my  comfort, 
my  health,  my  nerves  !  My  nerves  are  gone  to  pieces 
— I  live  in  a  state  of  siege  ! 

BERNAL. 
But  you  seem  to  hold  out. 

SIR  RALPH. 

There  are  very  serious  breaches.  It's  the  modern 
methods  of  attack — they've  reduced  it  to  a  science. 

BERNAL. 

Lady  Basset's  a  kind  of  Moltke  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

And  Miss  Jesmond's  a  kind  of  Armstrong !  I  vow  I'm 
doomed  to  fall ! 


ACT   FIRST  69 

BERNAL. 
My  dear  fellow,  don't  you  desire  to  fall  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

At  my  own  time,  in  my  own  place — not  in  the  din  of 
battle,  amid  the  yells  of  victory. 

BERNAL. 

I  enjoy  the  din  of  battle ;  and  the  yells  of  victory  have 
only  to  come  from  pretty  lips —  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 
Do  you  mean  you  actually  like  women  ? 

BERNAL. 

It  sounds  dreadful,  but  I  should  be  a  brute  if  I  didn't. 
They've  been  my  consolation. 

SIR  RALPH. 

They're  the  luxury  of  the  poor  !  You  can  afford  natural 
pleasures.  You  ought  to  recognise  the  fact  that  your 
limitations  are  your  liberty. 

BERNAL. 
The  liberty  to  love  ?     May  I  never  lose  it ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

I  shall  be  glad  to  assist  you  to  retain  it.  Remain 
exactly  as  you  are,  and  you  will. 


70  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL. 

I'm  afraid  there's  very  little  doubt  that  I  shall  remain 
exactly  as  I  am.  I  always  have  remained  exactly  as  I 
am  !  You  make  me  feel  indeed  a  sort  of  eternal  tableau 
vivant,  and  inspire  me  to  positively  decline  to  rise.  But 
while  I  luxuriate  in  my  limitations,  as  you  so  happily 
describe  them,  what  on  earth  will  become  of  you  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

I  shall  probably  succumb  to  the  mockery  of  my  advan- 
tages and  the  ferocity  of  my  pursuers. 

BERNAL. 
The  real  way  to  escape,  my  dear  man,  is  to  marry. 

SIR  RALPH,  with  a  start. 

Marry  whom  ? 

BERNAL,  diverted,  staring. 

Any  one  you  like  ! 

SIR  RALPH,  with  his  hand  to  his  heart. 

I  thought  you  meant  Miss  Jesmond  !  (Giving  him  his  hand.) 
See  how  my  pulse  throbs  ! 

BERNAL,  feeling  the  hand  while  Sir  RALPH  pants. 

You're  indeed  a  wreck  ! 

SIR  RALPH,  instinctively,  unconsciously  wiping  his  hand  with  his  pocket- 
handkerchief  and  going  on  argumentatively. 

You  say  "any  one  I  like."  But  I  don't  like  any  one! 
I  hate  them  all,  and  yet  they're  always  with  me ! 


ACT    FIRST  71 

BERNAL,  after  looking  at  him  an  instant  with  amused  compassion. 

Let  me  help  you  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Upon  my  soul,  I  think  you  ought !  You've  the  happy 
lot — the  ideal  life  :  you  owe  something  to  others  ! 

BERNAL. 
But  what  can  I  do  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 
Draw  the  assailants  off — keep  them  at  bay ! 

BERNAL,  considering,  responding,  entering  into  it. 

While  you -gain  time — get  away?  Happy  thought !  I'll 
do  what  I  can  :  I'll  cover  your  retreat. 

SIR  RALPH. 
I  count  upon  you  !     And  your  profit,  your  reward — 

BERNAL,  taking  the  words  out  of  his  mouth,  gaily  expressing  the  idea. 

Will  be  in  the  very  nature  of  the  task — the  exercise  of 
my  essential  freedom  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  pleased,  patronising. 

The  exercise,  say,  of  your  characteristic  genius  !  (Then 
after  an  instant.)  In  return  for  this  relief  I  should  be  willing 
to  entertain  the  idea  of  (hesitating  a  moment)  a  formal  acknow- 
ledgment. 

BERNAL,  vague. 

A  formal  acknowldgment  ? 


72  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 
Pecuniary  !     (Complacent.)     You  may  paint  my  portrait. 

BERNAL. 
Delighted.     You're  a  great  subject ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

But  not  for  a  thousand. 

BERNAL,  smiling. 

For  how  much  ? 

SIR  RALPH,  debating  an  instant ;  then  with  the  same  complacency. 

For  a  hundred. 

BERNAL,  with  the  same  good -humour. 
For    a    hundred.       (Then  while  GRACE  JESMOND  reappears.)      When 

will  you  sit? 

Re-enter  GRACE  JESMOND  from  the  library,  with  more  addressed  and 
stamped  letters. 

SIR  RALPH,  privately,  with  intensity,  to  BERNAL. 

"  Sit  ?  "     I  can  only  run  !     Cover  my  retreat ! 

Exit  Sir  RALPH  hastily  to  the  right. 
GRACE,  eager  ;  keeping  her  letters. 

Did  Mr.  Bedford  know  you  ? 

BERNAL,  smiling,  kind. 

I  think  I  was  mysterious  to  him — very  much  as  you  are 
to  me  !  (Then  after  an  instant.)  Are  you  greatly  attached  to 
him? 


ACT    FIRST  73 

GRACE. 

He  has  been  good  to  me.     I've  been  of  use  to  him,  and 
this  beautiful  place  has  been  my  home. 

BERNAL. 

Shall  you  leave  it — after  this  ? 

GRACE. 

Naturally  I  shall  leave  it.     With  regret ! 

BERNAL. 
And  where  shall  you  go  ? 

GRACE. 

I  don't  know,  Mr.  Bernal,  where  I  shall  go. 

BERNAL. 
Have  you  no  friends  ? 

GRACE. 
We  don't  know  what  friends  we  have  till  we  test  them. 

BERNAL. 

And  have  you  none  of  yours  whom  you've  tested  ? 

GRACE,  smiling. 

I  give  people  the  benefit  of  doubts  ! 

BERNAL. 

Don't  be  too  fond  of  doubts.     Try  a  little  confidence  ! 


74  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE. 

I  daresay  I  shall  have  to  from  this  time.     You  must  set 
me  the  example  ! 

BERNAL. 

Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you — offer  you  ? 

GRACE,  as  if  much  touched,  but  smiling,  and  with  a  certain  gentle  mockery. 

You  speak  as  if  you  were  powerful ! 

BERNAL. 

You  do  right  to  take  me  up  on  it.     My  situation  is 
preposterous — there's  indeed  no  service  I  can  render. 

GRACE. 

Your  situation  will  change — and  then  you'll   become 
conscious  of  your  power. 

BERNAL. 

Even  if  I  do,  I  don't  think  I  shall  believe  in  it.     The 
only  thing  I've  ever  believed  in  is  my  freedom  ! 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

Is  freedom  very  sweet  ? 

BERNAL. 
Have  you  never  known  it  ? 

GRACE. 
Perhaps  I  shall  know  it  now. 


ACT    FIRST  75 

BERNAL. 

If  I  lose  mine,  I  shall  take  a  tremendous  interest  in 
yours. 

GRACE. 

You're  very  kind — but  you'll  lose  nothing.     The  best 
freedom  is  to  be  rich  ! 

BERNAL. 

Why  are  you   so   bent,    Miss  Jesmond,  on   my   being 
"  rich  "  ? 

GRACE,  with  genuine  intensity. 

Because  it  costs  me  too  much,  here,  to-day,  to  believe 
you're  too  late ! 

BERNAL,  gallant. 

Never  too  late  when  in  time  to  see  you  !     (Then  as  Lady 
BASSET  reappears.)     And  the  rest  of  this  wonderful  company  ! 

Re-enter  Lady  BASSET  from  the  outer  hall,  again  fully  equipped  for  departure. 
LADY  BASSET,  eager. 

Sir  Ralph's  not  here  ? 

BERNAL. 

He's  with  our  cousin. 

LADY  BASSET,  in  the  same  manner. 

The  will's  made  ? 

GRACE. 
The  will's  made. 


76  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET. 

And  what  does  he  get  ? 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

He  gets  everything ! 

Re-enter  MAUD  VANNECK  from  the  outer  hall. 

LADY  BASSET,  in  the  excitement  and  effusion  of  the  news;  inadvertent, 
to  MAUD. 

He  gets  everything ! 

Re-enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN,  dressed  to  go,  with  the  two  bags. 

MAUD,  excited. 
Everything  ?        (Then  passing  on  the  news  to  TEDDY.)        He    gets 

everything  ! 

TEDDY,  staring. 

Everything  ? 

MAUD,  enthusiastic. 

Everything ! 

LADY  BASSET,  re-echoing,  jubilant. 

Everything  ! 

Re-enter  from  the  right,  as  she  speaks,  Sir  RALPH  DAMANT,  pale  and  grave, 
who  pauses  in  the  doorway  at  the  sight  and  sound  of  these  demonstrations, 
with  outstretched,  warning,  commanding  hands. 

SIR  RALPH,  with  stern  authority. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  we're  in  a  house  of  mourning. 
Our  generous  host  and  kinsman  has  passed  away ! 


ACT    SECOND 

MARK  BERNAL'S  studio,  Vandyke  Lodge,  Chelsea  ;  a  bare,  im- 
pecunious, but  more  or  less  shabbily-picturesque  room,  furnished  with 
odds  and  ends  and  with  various  signs  of  a  roving  past,  hand-to-mouth, 
picnicking  habits  and  a  Bohemian  manner  of  life  :  not  vulgar,  how- 
ever ;  only  unconventional  and  casual.  The  right  side  is  occupied  by 
the  high  glazed  studio  north-light.  At  the  centre,  toward  the  right, 
the  door  to  the  so-called  parlour.  At  the  centre,  toward  the  left,  the 
door  to  street,  opening  first  into  a  small  vestibule.  Down  on  the  left 
the  door  to  the  kitchen  and  the  pantry.  Under  the  big  window  an 
old  faded,  battered  Chippendale  sofa.  Down  on  the  left  an  old- 
fashioned  but  dilapidated  "property"  chair  with  a  small  table  beside 
it.  Up  at  the  centre,  between  the  two  doors,  a  bare  chimney-piece 
with  an  unframed  picture  above  it  and  a  table  covered  with  an  ancient, 
damaged  piece  of  brocade  in  front.  Half-way  down  on  the  right,  with 
its  face  to  the  light,  a  large  easel  with  a  big  new  canvas  set  up  on  it, 
and  a  stand  beside  it  with  a  colour-box  and  implements.  Down  on 
the  left  a  smaller  easel  with  a  smaller  canvas.  Watercolour  sketches 
and  charcoal  drawings  are  tacked  on  the  walls  ;  several  old  and  new 
canvases  are  stacked  together  on  the  floor.  On  stools,  chairs  and 
promiscuous  pieces  of  furniture  are  scattered  in  confusion  various 
articles  of  apparel  and  homely  domestic  utensils.  The  air  of  the 
whole  place  disgarnished  and  makeshift. 

The  stage  is  unoccupied  till  the  bell  from  the  street-door,  suspended  within 
sight,  tinkles  on  its  old  relaxed  spring.  At  the  sound  of  the  bell  TEDDY 
ASHDOWN  hurries  out  of  the  parlour,  carrying  the  retarded  breakfast-things 
on  an  extemporised  tray. 

TEDDY,  flurried,  in  extreme  dishabille,  only  his  shirt  and  trousers,  without 
a  necktie. 

A    sitter  ?       Sir    Ralph,   by  Jove  !       (Scuttling  down  to  the  kitchen 


78  THE   ALBUM 

with  the  tray.)  And  nothing  Washed  Up  !  (Disappears  moment- 
arily into  the  kitchen,  where  the  crash  of  crockery  hurriedly  set  down  is  heard 
while  the  bell  again,  in  the  studio,  more  sharply  tinkles.  TEDDY  emerging, 
more  excited,  looks  about  among  the  scattered  garments  for  something  more  to 

put  on.)    I'm  scarce  "  washed-up  "  myself,  and  (while  he  catches 

up  a  pair  of  braces  and  fastens  them  behind)  Certainly  not  drCSSCd-Up  ! 
(While  the  .bell  sounds  a  third  time  he  reaches  and  opens  the  street-door.  Then 
surprised  as  Lady  BASSET  is  disclosed.)  Lady  BaSSCt  ! 

Enter  Lady  BASSET. 
LADY  BASSET,  equally  surprised. 

I  find  you  in  possession  ? 

TEDDY,  his  braces  dangling  behind. 

Sadly  uncontested — unless  you've  come  for  your  por- 
trait ! 

LADY  BASSET,  while  she  looks  anxiously  round  her. 

I've  come  for  Sir  Ralph  Damant's — knowing  his  inten- 
tion to  sit. 

TEDDY. 

He  hasn't  sat,  worse  luck  !     We're  waiting. 

LADY  BASSET. 

You  too  ?     What  have  you  to  do  with  it  ? 


TEDDY. 
I'm  employed  by  Mr.  Bernal. 

LADY  BASSET,    looking  at  him  up  and  down  with  extreme  disapproval. 

Employed — as  a  model  ? 


ACT    SECOND  79 

TEDDY,  vague  ;  then  amusedly  taking  the  hint. 

You  mean  for  the — undraped?  No,  I  don't  pose — 
except  to  our  creditors  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  with  visible  rigour. 

Have  they  left  you  nothing  to  put  on  ? 

TEDDY,  feverishly  looking. 

Plenty if    I   Can    Only  find    it  !       (Then  when,  after  buttoning  his 

braces,  he  has  laid  his  hands  on  a  waistcoat,  a  jacket,  and  a  necktie.)       Re- 

duced  by  a  parent's  rigour  to  a  mere  miscellaneous 
wardrobe,  I've  fallen  back  on  my  artistic  nature. 

LADY  BASSET,  struck,  emphatic 

Just  what  TVe  fallen  back  on  ! 

TEDDY. 

Mr.  Bernal  had  been  so  kind  to  me  in  those  agitated 
hours  at  Courtlands  that  I  ventured  to  come  to  see  him. 
I  feel  I've  a  little  gift  that  only  requires  direction. 

LADY  BASSET,  encouraged. 

Exactly  what  /  feel !  (Resolute.)  He  shall  also  direct 
mine  ! — He's  out  ? 

TEDDY. 

He'll  be  back  in  a  moment.      He  kindly  puts  me  up. 

LADY  BASSET,  struck  ;  then  eager. 

Does  he  board  his  pupils  ? 

TEDDY. 

On  the  lowest  terms  ! 


8o  THE   ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET. 

I  shall  discuss  them  with  him. 

TEDDY,  surprised. 

Do  you  wish  him  to  put  you  up  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

In  order  to  be  present  at  the  sittings. 

TEDDY,  vague. 

The  sittings  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

That  Sir  Ralph  has  promised  to  give.     To  watch  the 
painter's  method. 

TEDDY,  after  an  instant. 

Ain't  you  afraid  he  may  watch  yours  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 
I  have  none.     I'm  a  creature  of  inspiration. 

TEDDY. 

But  while  you're  abandoned  to  your  inspiration  what  will 
become  of  dear  Maud  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

I've  thrown  her  up.      (After  an  instant.)      Dear   Maud's  at 
large ! 

TEDDY,  alert. 

Then  I  may  enjoy  her? 


ACT    SECOND  81 

LADY  BASSET. 

When  did  I  ever  prevent  you  ? 

TEDDY,  recollecting,  conceding. 

You  did  give  a  fellow  a  chance  ! 

LADY  BASSET,   with  abrupt  and  winning  familiarity. 

Then  let  a  fellow  give  me  one  !     (Appealing  sociably.)     Back 

me  Up  !  (Then  after  an  instant.)  I've  COme  to  Stay  !  (Eager, 
as  the  street-door  opens.)  Here  he  is  !  (Then  disconcerted,  disap- 
pointed, as  MARK  BERNAL  appears :  enter  MARK  BERNAL  from  the  street.) 

Oh! 

TEDDY,   to  BERNAL. 

She's  come  to  stay  ! 

BERNAL,  in  informal  but  recognisable  mourning  ;  coming  down,  gay, 
gallant,  to  Lady  BASSET. 

That's  a  note  of  defiance.     We  never  release  the  fair  ! 

TEDDY. 

She  wants  to  study  your  method. 

BERNAL,  to  Lady  BASSET. 

Of  dealing  with  the  fair  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  flattered,  arch. 

That  I  know  too  well !  (After  an  instant.)  Of  dealing  with 
the  timid  ! 

BERNAL,  sociable,  encouraging,  moving  a  chair. 

I  begin  with  asking  them  to  be  seated. 

VOL.   II  G 


82  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET,  taking  the  seat. 

I'm  not  speaking  of  myself — I'm  speaking  of  Sir  Ralph. 

BERNAL,  eager. 

You've  brought  him  with  you  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  alarmed. 

Brought  him  ?     Won't  he  come  of  himself? 

BERNAL,  unscrupulously  amiable. 

He  would  if  he  knew  you  were  here  !     (Then,  as  with  a  happy 
thought,  to  TEDDY.)     I  say — go  and  tell  him  ! 

TEDDY,  vague. 

This  moment  ? 

BERNAL. 

At  his  noble  mansion  in  Portland  Place. 

LADY  BASSET,  staring. 
Has  he  moved  to  Portland  Place  ? 

BERNAL. 
With  his  great  new  wealth ! 

LADY  BASSET,  rueful. 

While  I've  been  writing  to  his  chambers  ! 

BERNAL,  prompt,  plausible. 

That's  why  you've  had  no  answer !     He  has  now  set  up 
a  palace. 

LADY  BASSET,  much  impressed. 

A  palace  ? 


ACT    SECOND  83 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

Perhaps  I  should  say  a  fortress  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  considering,  politic,  to  TEDDY. 

Don't  go — I'll  wait ! 

BERNAL. 
He  must  gO   for   the    beer.       (Very  friendly,  to  Lady  BASSET.)       If 

you  consent  to  share  our  fortunes,  you'll  perhaps  share 
our  refreshment ! 

LADY  BASSET,  looking  at  him  ;  tenderly  significant. 

I'll  pretend  so — to  be  alone  with  you  ! 

BERNAL,  responsive,  smiling. 

I  delight  to  be  alone  with  you  !     (To  TEDDY.)     Have  you 
any  money  ? 

TEDDY. 

No ;  have  you  ? 

BERNAL. 
Look    in    the    teacup.        (To  Lady  BASSET,  while  TEDDY  goes  up  to  the 

chimney-piece.)      The  teacup's  our    bank — a   bank  that's 
always  breaking ! 

TEDDY,  accidentally,  as  he  reaches  up  for  the  cup,  knocking  it  over  and 
smashing  it. 

It's  broke  now  ! 

BERNAL,  as  he  looks  at  the  fragments  ;  good-humoured. 

Naturally — with  nothing  in  it !     Won't  they  trust  me  ? 


84  THE   ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET,  with  renewed  archness. 

They're  wiser  than  /,  Mr.  Bernal !  (Then  to  TEDDY,  with  her 
hand  in  her  pocket.)  But  here's  a  shilling — to  get  rid  of  you  ! 

(To  BERNAL,  as  TEDDY  accepts  the  shilling  and  he  protests  with  a  gesture.) 

I'll  take  it  out  in  lessons. 

TEDDY,  who  has  picked  up  his  hat ;  at  the  street  door,  to  BERNAL. 

I  told  her  your  terms  were  low  ! 

Exit  TEDDY  to  the  street. 
BERNAL,  struck,  as  if  with  a  happy  thought. 

Do  you  desire  a  course  of  instruction  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  simpering. 
I  feel  I've  a  little  gift  that  only  requires  direction. 

BERNAL,  amused,  encouraging. 

Your  little  giftS  are  profuse  !  (Then  as  he  picks  up  the  morsels  of 
the  teacup.)  If  I  form  a  School  (cheerful,  hopeful)  I  Can  gO  in 
for  a  little  jug  With  a  Slit  !  (Having  put  away  the  pieces.) 

You're  a  messenger  from  heaven — we're  living  on  hopes ! 

LADY  BASSET,  vague. 

Hopes  of  what  ? 

BERNAL. 

Of  bread  and  butter.     Of  my  cousin's  arrival,  and  his 

Splendid    pOSe.       (With  the  vivid  artistic  vision  — a  flourish  of  his  hand 

before  his  eyes.)     I  see  his  pose  already  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  with  the  same  flourish. 

So  do  I ! 

BERNAL,  with  sudden  ruefulness. 

But  what  I  don't  see  yet  is  the  "  honorarium  " ! 


ACT    SECOND  85 

LADY  BASSET. 

Is  it  to  be  so  heavy  ? 

BERNAL. 

A    hundred    pounds  —  the    Millennium.      (Sad.)      The 
Millennium  never  comes  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  reassuring. 

fm  not  the  Golden  Age,  no  doubt ;  but  I'll  pay  every 
week. 

BERNAL,  gallant. 

Dear  lady,  you   pay  every  minute  !     (Then  jovial,  making  his 

preparations  for  her  lesson,  drawing  out  the  smaller  easel.)       Oh,    I    shall 

get  on — Teddy  saves  me  a  butler. 

LADY  BASSET,  as  she  draws  off  her  gloves,  smiling  at  him  engagingly. 

What  shall  /  save  you  ? 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant ;  rising  to  the  occasion. 

The  pursuit  of  lovely  woman — if  I  may  worship  her  at 
home  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  warningly,  with  arch-prudery. 

You  must  speak  to  me  only  of  Art — for  in  Art  there  is 
no  Impropriety ! 

BERNAL,  gay. 

I  quite  understand  that  if  there  were,  you'd  never  have 

entered      (indicating  with  amused  irony  his  shabby  surroundings)     this 

dedicated  temple  !     (Reassuring.)     It's  a  ground  on  which 
we  may  meet  with  perfect  delicacy  !      (Then  after  placing  a 

drawing-board   on   the  smaller  easel)     What's    the    nature     Of    yOUr 

talent  ? 


86  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET,  rising. 
The    nature  ?       (Thinking,  while  he  helps  her  off  with  her  jacket ;  then 

with  effusion.)     Sincere ! 

BERNAL,  giving  her  a  charcoal  study  of  his  own. 

Then  copy  that  head — it's  nice  and  fresh ! 

LADY  BASSET,  with  the  head,  examining  it. 

I  must  do  it,  you  know,  as  I  feel  it ! 

BERNAL,  anxious. 

Don't  "  feel "  it  too  much — it  may  come  off !     (Then,  as 

she  has  put  the  sketch  on  a  rest  near  the  easel  and  seated  herself)    Do    yOU 

mind  if  I  change  my  coat  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  seated  at  the  easel,  beginning  her  work  from  the  sketch. 

Don't  we  agree  that  in  Art  there  is  no  Impropriety  ? 

BERNAL,  amused,  while  he  puts  on  an  old  black  velveteen  jacket  taken 
down  from  a  nail  on  which  he  has  suspended  his  other  coat. 

I  don't  change  it  for  "  Art " — I  change  it  for  economy. 
Do  you  mind  if  I  smoke  a  pipe  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  very  vivacious,  while  she  works. 

Do  you  mind  if  /  do  ? 

BERNAL. 
Alas,  we've  only  two,  and  Teddy  has  the  other !    (Then 

behind    her,    overlooking   her    start,    while    he    stuffs    and    lights    his    pipe) 

Haven't  you  got  the  head  awfully  in  the  corner  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  leaning  back,  with  her  own  head  very  much  on  one  side. 

That's  how  I  feel  it ! 


ACT    SECOND  87 

BERNAL,  amused,  resigned,  going  over  to  his  own  easel. 

You  feel  it  in  a  funny  place ! 

LADY  BASSET,  working. 
My  talent's  intensely  personal. 

BERNAL. 
Forgive  me  if  my  remarks  are  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

Absorbed  in  my  inspiration,  I  become  a  monster  of  in- 
difference. (Then  after  a  fit  of  rubbing  her  work  and  falling  back,  while 
BERNAL  lifts  the  big  blank  canvas  off  his  easel,  stands  it  against  the  wall  and 
prepares  something  he  can  go  on  with.)  What  On  earth  does  keep 

him? 

BERNAL,  preoccupied,  standing  at  his  easel. 

Teddy,  with  that  blessed  beer  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  in  attitudes. 

Sir  Ralph — the  false,  the  faithless  ! 

BERNAL,  painting. 

He's  paralysed  by  his  prudence. 

LADY  BASSET. 

He  may  indeed  have  been  prudent  with  me,  but  I  can't 
pretend  he  has  been  paralysed.  I've  had  startling 
glimpses  of  his  passion  ! 

BERNAL. 
Don't  build  on  his  passion — it's  hollow. 


Hollow  ? 


THE   ALBUM 
LADY  BASSET,  uneasy,  getting  up. 


BERNAL,  seating  himself  at  his  easel  as  she  leaves  her  place. 

Inane — insane.     Fate  has  marked  him  to  stand  alone! 

LADY  BASSET,  alarmed,  protesting. 

Alone  ? 

BERNAL,  with  great  sincerity,  as  he  works. 

He's  so  rich,  so  brilliant,  so  gifted,  that  he's  condemned 
to  a  splendid  solitude.  He  sees  all  men  as  sordid — he 
sees  all  women  as  venal.  A  cruel  doom  has  forbidden 
him  to  believe  in  human  affection. 

LADY  BASSET. 
And  do  you  believe  in  it  ? 

BERNAL,  leaving  his  easel,  smiling. 

I  think  it's  my  only  faith  !  And  I've  one  thing  that  he 
hasn't — the  freedom  to  cultivate  it ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

You've  cultivated  it  in  vain,  since — like  him  ! — you  stand 
alone. 

BERNAL. 
Alone  ?     Not  a  bit — with  you  here  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 
You're  evidently  afraid  to  marry. 

BERNAL. 
You're  quite  mistaken.     Try  me  ! 


ACT    SECOND  .          89 

LADY  BASSET,  startled,  vague. 

"  Try  "  you  ? 

BERNAL,  cheerful,  encouraging. 
Propose and  you'll   See  !       (Then  laughing,  as  she  gives  a  shocked 

gesture.)     They  do  to  Ralph  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  struck,  assenting. 
Dear  Maud  has  done  it,  I  know  !    (Then  after  an  instant)    And 

I  strongly  suspect  Miss  Jesmond. 

BERNAL,  wondering. 

Miss  Jesmond  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

I  know  she  has  proposed  to  others  ! 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant. 

Well — she  has  been  refused  all  round ! 

LADY  BASSET,  struck  again,  alarmed,  seizing  his  arm. 

Do  you  suppose  she  has  got  him  now  ? 

BERNAL,  vague,  just  wondering  again. 

Now? 

LADY  BASSET,  with  a  sudden  vision  of  the  truth,  while  TEDDY  ASHDOWN 
reappears:   re-enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  precipitately,  with  his  tankard  of 
beer,  from  the  street,  leaving  the  door  open  behind  him. 

That  creature  keeps  him  away  ! 

TEDDY,  as  he  comes  down  with  his  beer  and  Lady  BASSET  turns  back  to 
her  work  ;  privately  and  excitedly  to  BERNAL. 

He's  come  !  he's  come  :  his  footman's  looking  for  the 
house ! 


90  THE    ALBUM 

BERN  AL,  startled  ;  then,  as  if  abruptly  confessing,  with  great  urgency  and 
plausibility,  to  Lady  BASSET. 

Teddy  announces  a  model ! 

LADY  BASSET,  agitated. 

A  female  ? 

TEDDY. 

The  sort  of  thing  you  thought  /  was  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  hesitating. 

For  the  figure  ? 

BERNAL,  assenting,  smiling. 

But  not  a  female.  (Then,  on  a  gesture  of  Lady  BASSET'S  ;  as  if  out  of 
consideration  for  her  delicacy)  Will  yOU  retire  tO  the  parlour  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  considering,  as  if  to  measure  the  full  bearings  of  the  situa- 
tion ;  then  majestically  catching  up  her  jacket ;  to  protect  her  purity.  •: 

I'll  retire  !       (At  the  door  of  the  parlour,  which  TEDDY  has  opened  for  her  ; 

resolute.)     I've  come  to  stay  ! 

Exit  Lady  BASSET. 

BERNAL,  urgent,  to  TEDDY. 

Stay  With  her  !  (Exit  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  to  the  parlour,  while  BERNAL 
eagerly  meets  Sir  RALPH,  who  appears  in  the  open  doorway.  Enter  Sir  RALPH 
DAMANT  from  the  street.)  YouVe  COme  tO  sit  ? 


SIR   RALPH,  in  deep,  distinguished  mourning;  visibly  and  unfavourably 
impressed  by  his  cousin's  Bohemian  accessories. 

Do  you  consider  there's  anything  to  sit  on  ? 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

Some  of  the  chairs  have  legs,  and  some  have  backs — 


ACT    SECOND  91 

SIR  RALPH,  as  he  looks  critically  round. 

But  none  have  both  !  (Then  checking  BERNAL  gravely  in  the  move- 
ment to  provide  him  with  a  seat.)  There  are  preliminaries — con- 
ditions. 

BERNAL,  arrested  but  amused. 

Why,  I  thought  we  had  settled  them  at  Courtlands  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  after  an  instant. 

Do  you  mean  the  sum  to  be  paid  ? 

BERNAL. 

Paid,  my  dear  Ralph  (hesitating,  smiling)  as  soon  as  you're 
so  very  good  as  to  pay  it ! 

SIR   RALPH,  surprised  and  as  if  resenting  his  avidity. 

How  can  I  pay  it  before  I  judge  of  the  likeness  ? 

BERNAL. 

How  can  you  judge  of  the  likeness  before  I've  a  chance 
to  catch  it  ?  (Laughing.)  "  First  catch  your  hare  ! " 

SIR  RALPH. 

Your  images  make  me  shudder  ! — all  the  more  that 
(thanks  to  the  rigour  of  my  mourning  !)  I've  enjoyed 
for  a  while  a  period  of  exemption  from  the  chase.  Now 
that  I've  quitted  my  retreat — 

BERNAL. 

It's  only  to  remind  me  of  that  charming  feature  of  our 
contract — 


92  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 
Your  guarantee  of  safety —  ! 

BERNAL,  interrupting  again  in  turn  ;  good-humoured. 

And  resemblance !  So  that  it's  not  till  I  hand  you 
these  commodities — 

SIR  RALPH. 

Over  the  counter,  as  it  were,  that  I  hand  you  a  hundred 
pounds ! 

^BERNAL,  disappointed,  but  trying  to  be  cheerful ;  about  to  lay  his  hands 
gaily  on  Sir  Ralph,  as  if  to  put  him  in  position. 

The  attitude's  found — I'll  do  you  in  the  act ! 

SIR  RALPH,  struck,  approving. 

And  call  the  picture  "The  Patron  of  Art,"  or  "The 
Friend  in  Need  "  ?  Before  I  can  throw  myself  into  that 
character  with  the  requisite  calm,  I've  a  deep  anxiety  to 
allay. 

BERNAL,  impatient. 

Another  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

There's  always  another !  How  have  you  disposed  of 
Miss  Jesmond  ? 

BERNAL,  blank. 

Disposed  of  her  ?     Not  at  all ! 

SIR  RALPH,  displeased. 

Then  you  dorit  carry  out  our  bargain  ? 


ACT    SECOND  93 

BERNAL. 

Such  a  bargain  as  that  ?     It  takes  three  to  make  it !     I 
haven't  seen  the  tip  of  her  nose. 

SIR   RALPH,  wondering,  grave. 

She's  lying  low  ? 

BERNAL,  raising  and  dropping  his  arms ;  irresponsible. 

She  has  vanished  from  my  ken  ! 

SIR  RALPH,  reflecting. 

She's  laying  a  train. 

BERNAL. 

Then  it's  a  very  long  one  !     You  remember  when  she 
quitted  Courtlands  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  assenting. 

The  day  of  her  patron's  death. 

BERNAL,  with  a  certain  veiled,  sarcastic  bitterness. 

His  patronage  had  limits — as  appeared  by  his  will ! 

SIR  RALPH,  after  an  instant. 

Do  you  allude  to  his  overlooking  you  ? 

BERNAL. 
To  his  overlooking  her. 

SIR  RALPH. 
She  had  five  years  of  pickings. 


94  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
Do  you  mean  that  she  still  has  resources  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  with  the  same  serenity. 

Her  character — which  is  unmistakable — supplies  them 
in  abundance. 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant ;  as  if  thinking  this  over. 

If  you  haven't  seen  her,  how  should  I  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

You  were  so  grossly  indiscreet  as  to  boast  to  her  of  my 
order. 

BERNAL,  smiling. 

Forgive  my  natural  pride  !  But  if  she  has  found  no 
pretext  for  approaching  you — 

SIR   RALPH,  interrupting. 

I  tremble  at  every  ring  !  (Then  with  a  violent  start,  as  the  bell  of  the 
street-door  sounds  out)  There  she  is  !  (To  himself,  seeing  TEDDY 
burst  out  of  the  parlour  to  answer  the  bell :  re-enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  from 
the  parlour)  And  there  he  is  !  (Then  to  BERNAL,  while  TEDDY 
passes  to  the  street-door  ;  quickly  moving  to  the  parlour)  Let  me  escape  ! 

BERNAL,  alarmed,  catching,  intercepting  him,  while  TEDDY  opens  the  street- 
door  and  MAUD  VANNECK  appears. 

Not  there ! 

Enter  MAUD  VANNECK  from  the  street. 
TEDDY,  welcoming  MAUD  ;  delighted. 

So  jolly  of  you  to  look  a  fellow  up  ! 


ACT    SECOND  95 

SIR  RALPH,  relieved,  but  still  highly  disgusted. 

Permit  me  to  dissent  from  that ! 

TEDDY,  explaining  her  to  the  others. 

Lady  Basset  chucks  her. 

MAUD,  cheerful. 

But  I  can  face  the  usual  dangers ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

That's  more,  madam,  than  /  can  do  !     (Then  aside  to  BERNAL, 

while  MAUD  allows  TEDDY  joyfully  to  divest  her  of  her  jacket  and  feather  boa) 

I  leave  the  house  ! 

BERNAL,  genuinely  distressed. 

Where'll  you  go  ? 

SIR  RALPH,  thinking;  with  dignity. 

I'll  drive  on  the  Embankment. 

BERNAL,  urgent. 

And  you'll  come  back —  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  at  the  street-door. 

When  you've  worked  her  off! 


Exit  Sir  RALPH. 


MAUD,  disconcerted  ;  with  compunction. 

I've  driven  Sir  Ralph  away  ! 


What  do  you  want  of  Sir  Ralph  when  you've  got  a  fellow 
like  me  ? 


96  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL,  impatient. 

She  has  got  nothing  of  the  sort,  Teddy.  You'll  please 
to  return  to  your  studies. 

TEDDY,  resenting  this  decree,  with  injured  dignity. 

If  you  didn't  take  me,  Mr.  Bernal,  for  nothing — 

BERNAL,  good-humoured,  gay. 

I  should  take  you  for  a  dangerous  rival !  And  on  the 
mere  chance  I  banish  you  ! 

TEDDY,  at  the  door  to  the  parlour. 

When  I  can  I'll  pay  you  ! 

Exit  TEDDY  ASHDOWN. 
BERNAL,  to  MAUD. 

To  what  do  I  owe  the  honour  of  your  visit  ? 

MAUD. 

Abandoned  by  my  natural  protectors,  I've  fallen  back 
on  my  artistic  nature.  I  feel  I've  a  little  gift  that  only 
requires  direction. 

BERNAL,  eager. 

You  enter  my  school  ? 

MAUD,  reluctant,  indicating  the  parlour. 

Do  you  mean  that  place  ? 

BERNAL. 
It's  there  that  I  hold  my  class  ! 


ACT    SECOND  97 

MAUD. 

But  where  do  you  paint  Sir  Ralph  ? 

BERNAL,  disconcerted. 

Did  I  tell  you  too  I  was  to  paint  him  ? 

MAUD. 

Miss  Jesmond  told  me — at  Courtlands.     You  know  we 
came  away  together. 

BERNAL,  alert. 

Where  did  Miss  Jesmond  go  ? 

MAUD. 

She  came  to  London. 

BERNAL. 

And  where  is  she  now  ? 

MAUD,  with  asperity. 

I  haven't  the  least  idea  !     (Then  more  persuasive.)     You  must 
let  me  see  you  at  work. 

BERNAL. 
At  work  on  Sir  Ralph  ?     You  mustn't  let  me  see  you  ! 

MAUD,  after  an  instant ;  arch. 

Do  you  fear  him  too  as  a  rival  ? 


BERNAL,  blank. 

A  rival  ? 

VOL.   II 


98  THE    ALBUM 

MAUD. 
Isn't  that  what  you  call  Mr.  Ashdown  ? 

BERNAL. 
As  a  manner  of  speaking  !     If  I  fear  my  cousin  as  a 

rival,   it's    as    a    rival    tO    Teddy.        (After  an  instant,  coaxing.)       I 

should  like  much   better  to  see  you  at  work  on  him ! 
He's  a  fine  little  chap,  is  Teddy. 

MAUD,  impatient. 

Dear  Mr.  Bernal,  I    don't  want  a  fine  little  chap.     I 
want  a  man  of  the  world — and  a  man  of  means.      I  want 

SOcial     distinction.  I    want    (thinking  ;   then  with  vain  emphasis) 

oh,  I  want  a  lot  of  things  ! 

BERNAL. 

Yes ;  you  all  want  a  lot  of  things.      I  should  think  it 
would  be  enough  to  want  a  little  thing  called  happiness  ! 

MAUD. 

But  happiness  depends  on  such  a  lot ! 

BERNAL. 
Does  yours  depend  on  your  bringing  down  Sir  Ralph  ? 

MAUD,  after  an  instant. 
You're    awfully  VUlgar,   yOU    knOW  !        (Then  after  another  instant. 

Do  you  believe  I  can  ? 

BERNAL. 

I  believe  almost  any  woman  can  experiment  successfully 
on  almost  any  man. 


ACT    SECOND  99 

MAUD,  eager. 

Make  him  love  her  ? 

BERNAL. 

Yes  —  and  make  him  hate  her  for  doing  it !  You're 
young,  you're  pretty,  you're  clever — 

MAUD,  interrupting,  complacent. 

And  I've  had  the  Higher  Education  ! 

BERNAL,  smiling. 
The    Higher,   but    not    the    Highest  !       (Then  more  gravely,  but 

very  kindly.)  The  education  of  unselfish  affection  !  (Pleading, 
sociably,  tenderly.)  Think  a  little  more  of  that,  and  a  little 
less  of  baubles  and  baronets  !  Don't  misapply  your 
gifts ;  don't  pervert  your  youth ;  don't  harden  your 
heart.  (After  an  instant.)  Don't  try  to  get  on  without  love  ! 

MAUD,  as  if  struck,  incipiently  charmed,  by  his  appeal. 

Have  you  tried  ? 

BERNAL. 

Not  for  a  single  hour  !  I've  loved,  though  I've  lost ! 
So,  bare  as  you  see  me  here,  I  dispense  with  a  lot  of 
things.  I'm  rich  in  faith. 

MAUD. 
Faith  in  what  ? 

BERNAL. 

In  the  present  woman — whoever  she  is  ! 

MAUD. 

And  what  do  you  do  about  the  absent  ? 


ioo  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

I  don't  recognise  the  absent.     She's  always  the  loser  ! 

MAUD,  after  an  instant. 

If  I  were  to  marry  you  I  think  I'd  look  after  you  ! 

BERNAL. 
I  want  some  one  awfully  to  look  after  me. 

MAUD. 
With    SUch  a    person,  and  (looking  rather  compassionately  round  her) 

such  a  home,  you'd  enter  upon  a  union —  ? 

BERNAL,  prompt. 

In  a  moment — in  Teddy's  place  ! 

MAUD,  disconcerted,  called  back  to  reality  while  the  bell  of  the  street-door 
rings. 

Oh,  Teddy's— ! 

Re-enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  precipitately  from  the  parlour. 
BERNAL. 

Teddy's  place  is  to  answer  the  bell. 

MAUD,  eager,  while  TEDDY  goes  to  the  door. 

Sir  Ralph  back  ? 

TEDDY,  opening  the  street-door,  announcing,  exclaiming. 

Dear  old  Miss  Jesmond  ! 

Enter  GRACE  JESMOND. 


ACT    SECOND 

BERNAL,  with  astonishment  and  alacrity,  meeting  her. 

Miss  Jesmond  ! 

GRACE,  who  has  paused  an  instant,  as  if,  at  the  sight  of  MAUD,  with  a  l 
irrepressible  hesitation. 

I  had  your  address. 

BERNAL,  rejoicing. 

How  jolly — it  was  in  that  book  ! 

TEDDY,  sociable,  ingenuous. 

Oh  yes,  in  that  book  ! 


GRACE,    pale,  tired,  appreciably  altered  ;   in  simple,  economical  mourning ; 
addressing  TEDDY  very  kindly,  but  markedly  as  if  to  check  him. 

I'm  glad  to  find  you,  Mr.  Ashdown. 


MAUD,  who  on  GRACE'S  entrance  has  passed  in  visible  displeasure  to  the  sofa 
under  the  window,  where  she  has  seated  herself ;  hearing  this. 

Mr.   Ashdown!       (TEDDY  hurries  over  to  her  and  talks  with  her.) 
BERNAL,  to  GRACE,  in  frank  wonderment  and  appreciation. 

You've  put  on  mourning — when  he  left  you  nothing  ? 

GRACE,  at  the  left,  gravely  indicating  his  own  garb  while  she  sinks  upon  the 
other  sofa. 

What  did    he    leave  yOU  ?       (Then  as  BERNAL,  with  a  motion  as  of 
cheerful,  resigned  dismissal  of  the  subject,  places  himself  beside  her.)       I've 

come  to  see  you  (after  an  instant)  on  account  of  your  pro- 
fession. 

BERNAL,  struck,  amused. 

You  too  have  a  little  gift —  ? 


102  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  vague. 

A  little  gift  ? 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

That  only  requires  direction  ! 

GRACE,  smiling  sadly. . 

I'm  afraid  I've  no   gift  at  all — that's  exactly  why   I've 
come.     (After  an  instant.)     I  must  find  employment. 

BERNAL,  vague. 

As  an  amanuensis  ? 

GRACE. ' 
I've  tried  for  that — in  vain. 

BERNAL,  sympathetic. 

Nobody  wants  one  ? 

GRACE,  with  the  same  sad  smile  ;  discouraged,  resigned. 

Everybody  has  one  ! 

BERNAL,  smiling. 

/  haven't,  Miss  Jesmond ;  but  on  the  other  hand — 

GRACE,  as  he  pauses. 

You've  so  little  correspondence  ? 

BERNAL. 

I  fear  it's  of  a  sort  (after  an  instant,  laughing)  not  to  be  deputed 
to  another. 

GRACE. 
It's  not  with  that  idea  that  I've  ventured  to  approach 


ACT    SECOND  103 

yOU.        (Then  after  a  supreme  hesitation.)       You're    the    Only    artist 

I  happen  to  know — and  I've  come  to  suggest  myself  as 
a  model. 

BERNAL,  wonderstruck. 

A  model  ? 

MAUD,   overhearing,  rising  ;  to  TEDDY. 
A  model  ?       (Then  as  she  seizes   the  idea ;    with  emphatic  compunction.) 

That's  what  /  ought  to  have  done  ! 

TEDDY,  on  his  feet,  equally  struck,  delighted. 

It's  not  tOO  late will  yOU  Sit  tO  me  ?      (Then  eager,  to  BERNAL, 

indicating  MAUD.)       May  she  Sit  to  me  ? 

BERNAL,  rising,  struck,  thinking  an  instant ;  then  happy  to  adopt  the 
suggestion. 

Certainly — in  the  parlour  ! 

TEDDY,  disconcerted,  objecting. 

With  Lady  Basset  ? 

MAUD,  astonished. 

Lady  Basset  ? 

TEDDY,  explaining. 

She's  the  Second  Pupil. 

BERNAL,  insistent. 

The  Second  Pupil  must  have  the  same  advantages  as 
the  First !  Therefore  (settling  the  matter,  to  MAUD)  you  must 
sit  to  both  of  them  ! 

MAUD,  majestic  and  sarcastic,  looking  at  GRACE. 

While  Miss  Jesmond  sits  to  you  ? 


104  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant,  gay. 

Miss  Jesmond's  professional ! 

MAUD,  at  this,  gives  a  shocked  gesture  and,  as  if  retiring  to  avoid  some  inde- 
corous exhibition,  goes  up  with  TEDDY,  who  ushers  and  follows  her  into  the 
parlour  while  BERNAL  returns  to  GRACE. 

GRACE,  who  during  this  discussion  has  sat  motionless,  only  with  her  eyes 
attentively  wandering  over  the  tell-tale  indications  of  the  place. 

Not  yet — but  I  really  want  to  be  ! 

BERNAL,  on  the  sofa  again. 

You're  quite  without  resources  ? 

GRACE,  very  simple. 

Quite  without  resources. 

BERNAL. 
You've  never  been  able  to  save  ? 

GRACE. 

I've  a  sister  (after  an  instant)  whom  I  help.  Her  husband's 
dying — she  has  children — she  has  troubles.  So  you  see 
I  must  do  something — and  do  it  soon.  There  are 
people  I've  seen,  in  past  years,  at  Courtlands — it's  to 
those  people  I've  been.  It  was  at  Courtlands  I  saw  you 
— and  it's  to  you  I  come  last.  (After  a  moment.)  I've  been 
to  shops,  first.  I've  been  told  to  come  again — and  I've 
gone  again.  But  it's  the  same  everywhere — there's 
nothing  to  be  had.  It  occurred  to  me  at  last  that  I  had 
heard  of  girls  who  earn  money — however  little  ! — by 


ACT    SECOND  105 

sitting  to  painters ;  sitting  for  the  head,  the  hair,  the 
hands,  for — what  do  you  call  it? — the  "type"  :  in  story- 
book attitudes,  in  short -waisted  frocks,  in  old  faded 
Kate  Greenaway  dresses.  So  I  thought  there  might  be 
a  demand  (smiling  again)  and  that  I  might — with  a  little 
patience  ! — do  something  to  meet  it.  I'm  perhaps  not 
clumsier — nor  uglier  ! — than  some.  I'm  willing  to  try 
hard,  to  do  my  best ;  and  if  it's  only  a  question  of  keep- 
ing Still Oh,  I  Can  do  that  :  SO  Still SO  Still  !  (Then  after 

an  instant,  brave,  simple.)       Anything  tO  boil  the  pot  ! 

BERNAL,  who  has  listened  intently. 

Your  idea's  ingenious — but  is  there  nothing  else  you 
can  do  ? 

GRACE. 

I've  hunted  up  and  down  for  a  month.  And  the  only 
definite  thing  I've  found  is  how  many  others  are  hunting 
— a  thousand  partners  in  the  chase  ! 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

Diana  and  all  her  nymphs  !  So  you've  kindly  come  to 
me—? 

GRACE. 

In  my  ignorance  of  the  next  best  step. 

BERNAL,  very  kind. 

It's  a  cruel  change — from  your  life  at  Courtlands. 

GRACE. 

Do  you  remember  you  told  me  at  Courtlands  that  free- 
dom is  sweet?  (After  an  instant.)  I'm  tasting  its  sweetness  ! 


io6  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL,  after  a  moment. 

I  wish  I  could  assist  you  ! 

GRACE,  with  extreme  but  suppressed  apprehension. 

I'm  not  the  "  type  "  ?     I've  not  the  appearance —  ? 

-     BERNAL,  abrupt. 

You've  the  appearance,  Miss  Jesmond,  of  an  angel ! 

GRACE,  rising  quickly  ;  concluding. 

But  you've  simply  no  present  use  for  me  ! 

BERNAL,  rising  ;  then  with  the  artist's  gesture  of  evocation. 

I  see  you  perfectly — I  place  you — I  catch  you.     But 

(with  a  sad  smile  and  a  slow  head-shake)  I  lose  yOU  again  ! 

GRACE,  looking  vaguely  about. 
Of  COUrse  you've  plenty  of  people.      (Then  after  an  instant.)      Do 

you  happen  to  know  some  painter — ? 

'BERNAL,  falling  in,  thinking. 

Who  would  be  ready  for  such  a  sitter  ?     There  isn't  a 
fellow  in  London  who  wouldn't  rejoice  in  the  chance  ! 

(Then  feeling  his  pockets  for  a  notebook  ;  looking  round  for  something  to  write 

on.)     I'll  give  you  the  best  addresses. 

GRACE,  as  he  comes  down  again,  finding  nothing. 

You're  looking  for  notepaper  ? 

BERNAL,  embarrassed,  ashamed  ;  still  looking. 
We    had    a   Sheet last  Week  !       (Then  blushing,  conscious,  smiling, 

while  he  confesses  his  destitution.)     You're  not  in  a  land  of  plenty ! 


ACT    SECOND  107 

GRACE,  looking  at  him  an  instant,  then  abruptly  drawing  the  sketchbook  of 
Act  First  from  under  her  mantle. 

Write  in  that. 

BERNAL,  recognising  gaily  his  book. 

My  album — you've  brought  it  back  ? 

GRACE. 

I've  brought  it   back.      (After  an  instant.)     I   thought   you 
might  need  it. 

BERNAL,  laughing,  scribbling  addresses  on  a  leaf  of  the  album. 

You  see  I  do  ! 

GRACE,  looking  about  the  place  again  while  he  writes. 

It's  your  only  one  ? 

BERNAL,  writing,  preoccupied,  smiling. 

My  one  ewe-lamb  ! 

GRACE. 
It  was  good  of  you  to  give  it  to  me. 

BERNAL,  still  writing. 

Don't  praise  me — when  I  take  it  back  ! 

GRACE,  smiling. 

I  put  you  to  special  expenses  ! 

BERNAL,  tearing  out  of  the  album  the  leaf  on  which  he  has  written  ;  folding 
and  giving  it  to  her. 

You  see  I  stagger  beneath  them  ! 


io8  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  with  the  paper,  which  she  slowly  puts  into  her  portemonnaie. 

But  I  also  see  you  have  pupils. 

BERNAL,  smiling. 

I  take  them  for  nothing. 

GRACE. 
You're     tOO     generOUS.        (Then  after  a  moment.)         But     you've 

had  orders. 

BERNAL. 

For  portraits  ?     I've  had  one,  thank  heaven  ! 

GRACE,  after  another  moment. 

From  Sir  Ralph  Damant  ? 

BERNAL,  struck. 

You  knew  it  ? 

GRACE. 
YOU    told    me    at  Courtlands.       (Then  as  he  gives  a  lively  gesture  of 

recollection.)     You've  had  no  other  ? 

BERNAL,  philosophic. 

No  other. 

GRACE. 

Is  Sir  Ralph  finished  ? 

BERNAL. 

He's  not  begun.     He  begins  to-day. 

GRACE,  as  if  definitely  influenced  by  this  ;  thinking. 

To-day  ? 


ACT    SECOND  109 

BERNAL,  noticing  her  interest  in  the  question  ;  attentive. 

He  comes  to  sit — you  may  meet  him. 

GRACE,  considering,  assenting. 

I  see — I  may  meet  him. 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

He  may  meet  you  ! 

GRACE,  who  has  moved  away  an  instant,  and  once  more  has  turned  her  eyes 
over  the  room  ;  speaking  at  last,  as  she  faces  him  again,  abruptly. 

Mr.  Bernal — are  you  very  poor  ? 

BERNAL. 

Do  you  suppose  if  I  were  not  I  would  decline  your 
splendid  offer  ?  The  stupid,  sordid  truth,  Miss  Jesmond, 
is  that  I  can't  afford  a  model ! 

GRACE,  grave. 
I  566.       (Then  with  infinite  gentleness.)       I'm  Very  SOny. 

BERNAL. 

You  can't  be  sorrier  than  I !  It  was  awfully  nice  of  you 
to  come ;  but  you've  brought  your  empty  pitcher  to  a 
thirsty  land  ! 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

You're  as  poor  as  I  am  ? 

BERNAL. 

You  make  me  feel  much  poorer !  And  it's]  the  first 
time  my  condition  has  seemed  to  me  (bringing  out  the  word 

with  expression,  resentment)  Ugly  ! 


no  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE. 
It's  the  first  time  mine  has  seemed  to  me  endurable  ! 

(Then  as  she  visibly  lingers,  delays  to  go,  takes  another  survey  of  the  studio.) 

Do  you  live  without — comfort  ? 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

With  such  comfort  as  you  behold  ! 

GRACE,  taking  out  again  the  paper  he  has  given  her. 

And  these  artists  are  rich  ? 

BERNAL. 

They're  richer.     Do  try  them  ! 

GRACE,  looking  at  the  list.  , 

I'll    try    them.       (Then  still  stationary,  with  the  list  in  her  hand.)       It's 

your  cousin's  hour  ? 

BERNAL. 

It's  my  cousin's  hour. 

GRACE. 
Then  I  suppose  I  ought  to  go. 

BERNAL,  after  a  moment. 

Your  time  of  course  is  limited. 

GRACE,  continuing  to  twist  her  paper  nervously,  without  any  movement  of 
departure. 

My  necessity  indeed  presses.     (Then  after  an  instant.)     From 
the  moment  my  business  is  over — 


ACT    SECOND  in 

BERNAL,  smiling,  as  she  vaguely  pauses. 

You've  no  reason  to  stay  ? 

GRACE. 

None   I   can  conveniently  express.     (Smiling.)     I'm  not, 
like  Miss  Vanneck,  a  pupil. 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

Nor  like  my  Lady  Basset !     (After  an  instant.)      They  can 
express  their  reason  ! 

GRACE,  as  if  thinking  what  this  can  be  ;  then  bringing  it  out 

Sir  Ralph  Damant  ? 

BERNAL. 

They  want  to  corner  him  ! 

GRACE,  looking  down  while  she  speaks. 

To  "corner"  him? 

BERNAL. 
To  marry  him  ! 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

Both? 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

Both! 

GRACE. 

And  they're  waiting  for  him  ? 

BERNAL. 

They're  waiting  for  him  ! 


U2  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  after  an  instant,  smiling,  but  as  if  thinking. 

/won't,  then. 

BERNAL,  pretendingly  jocular. 

You'll  call  on  him  at  home  ? 

GRACE,  with  her  eyes  on  him  a  moment  in  silence. 

Where  does  he  live  ? 

BERNAL. 
Portland  Place,  130. 

GRACE. 
Thank    yOU.       (Then  looking  again  at  her  list.)        If  theSC    gentle- 

men  employ  me — 

BERNAL,  emphatical  but  sad,  as  she  pauses. 

You'll  be  so  taken  up  that  I  shall  never  see  you  again  ! 

GRACE,  who  has  finally,  wearily  put  away  her  paper  and  gathered  her  mantle 
round  her. 

Good-bye,  Mr.  Bernal. 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant. 

Good-bye,  Miss  Jesmond. 

GRACE,  turns  away  from  him  as  if  to  move  to  the  door,  taking  as  she  does  so 
a  supreme  look  round.     Then  suddenly,  in  this  act,  she  falters,  totters 
slightly,  raises  her  hand  to  her  head,  as  if  faint  or  giddy,  with  an  ejaculation 
of  distress. 

Ah! 

BERNAL,  moving,  anxious,  quick,  to  her  assistance. 

You're  ill  ? 


ACT    SECOND  113 

GRACE,  reaching  out  to  support  herself. 

I'm  faint ! 

BERNAL,  catching,  sustaining  her 

You're  exhausted — you're  quite  done  ! 

GRACE,  panting,  trying  to  recover  herself,  while  Lady  BASSET  reappears. 

Walking  over  London — since  breakfast ! 

Re-enter  Lady  BASSET  from  the  parlour. 

LADY  BASSET,  stopping  short,  arrested,  scandalised  by  the  sight  of  BERNAL 
closely  holding,  apparently  embracing,  GRACE. 

Mr.  Bernal,  what  on  earth  are  you  doing  ? 

BERNAL,  startled,  while  he  quickly  separates  from  GRACE  ;  embarrassed,  but 

smiling  and  plausibly  explaining. 

Setting  up  my  model ! 

LADY  BASSET. 
Your    model  ?       (Then  struck,  inspired,  looking  from  one  of  them  to  the 

other.)  I've  come  in  to  tell  you  that  my  little  gift  requires 
more  direction  than  you  seem  to  have  time  for.  So, 
with  leisure  on  my  hands,  why  shouldn't  /  perform  that 
function  ? 

BERNAL. 

Sit  for  me  —  in  character  ?  (Gay.)  You'd  come  ex- 
pensive 

LADY  BASSET,  who  is  divested  of  her  hat  and  is  now  essentially  arranged 
to  "stay"  J  prompt. 

Let  it  not  be  a  question  of  money.      I'll  do  it  for  love  ! 
VOL.  n 


ii4  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  gathering  herself  together  again  with  a  wan  smile  for  BERNAL. 

Profit  by  such  a  chance.     Good-bye  ! 

BERNAL,  doubly  reluctant  now  to  let  her  go  ;  seizing  a  pretext  for  detaining 
and  refreshing  her. 

You've  had  nothing  since  breakfast?  Models  have 
appetites  !  (Bethinking  himself,  casting  about.)  They  particu- 
larly depend  on  their  tea. 

LADY  BASSET. 

I  particularly  depend  on  mine  ! 

BERNAL. 

I  think  there  is  some — somewhere  or  other. 

GRACE,  pulling  herself  together. 

Then  I  won't  refuse  it. 

BERNAL,  to  Lady  BASSET,  invitingly,  after  he  has  quickly  opened  the  door 
of  the  kitchen. 

J  daresay  it's  in  there.  There's  something  in  the  nature 
of  a  kettle —  ! 

LADY   BASSET,  aloof,  mindful  only  of  her  dignity  and  her  clothes. 

Shall  I  call  Mr.  Ashdown  to  make  it  boil  ? 

GRACE,  suddenly  reviving,  interposing,  catching  at  the  occasion  to  remain. 

Let  me  make  it  boil !  (With  a  brightened  smile.)  I'm  all  right 
as  soon  as  I  work  ! 

BERNAL,  unwilling,  protesting,  while  she  eagerly  unfastens  her  mantle. 

Work  ?     Not  in  your  condition  ! 


ACT    SECOND  115 

GRACE,  quite  gay. 

Isn't  it  exactly  what  my  condition  wants  ?     (Then  while  he 

has  helped  her  off  with  her  cloak  and  taken  it  from  her.)  I'll  take  off  my 
hat  !  (Removing  and  giving  it  to  him  to  put  with  the  cloak.)  And  pin 
Up  the  Skirt  Of  my  Only  frock  !  (Turning  up  her  dress  till  it  shows 
half  her  petticoat,  and  passing  BERNAL  a  pin.)  Will  yOU  do  it  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  watching  her  with  discomfiture  as  BERNAL  fastens  the  skirt 
behind  ;  to  herself. 

Why  didn't  I  think  of  that  ? 

BERNAL,  vague,  hopeful,  to  GRACE,  who  has  reached  the  door  of  the  kitchen. 

There  are  things — if  you  can  make  them  out. 

GRACE,  who  has  taken  her  hat  and  jacket  back  from  him  ;  at  the  door. 

I'll  make  them  out ! 

Exit  GRACE  JESMOND. 

LADY  BASSET. 
Is  there  bread  and  butter  ? 

BERNAL. 

I've  an  earnest  trust ! 

LADY  BASSET,  while  GRACE  reopens  the  door  of  the  kitchen. 

And  any  little  extra  ? 

GRACE. 
Mr.  Bernal ! 

BERNAL,  while  he  hurries  to  GRACE  and  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  reappears  ; 
addressing  Lady  BASSET  from  the  door  of  the  kitchen. 

I'll  ascertain  ! 

Exit  MARK  BERNAL.     Re-enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  from  the  parlour. 


ii6  THE   ALBUM 

TEDDY,  disconcerted,  coming  down. 

Dear  Maud  won't  sit ! 

LADY  BASSET,  preoccupied  with  her  tea. 

Is  there  any  little  extra  ? 

TEDDY,  vague. 

In  the  course  of  instruction  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

In  the  course  of  recreation,     (indicating  the  kitchen.)     They're 
making  tea. 

TEDDY. 

Oh,  we  don't  have  little  extras  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

I  introduce  a  new  system. 

TEDDY,  blank. 

How  in  the  world  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

What  have  you  done  with  my  change  ? 

TEDDY. 

From  the  beer  ?       (Pulling  out  a  few  coppers  and  looking  at  them  in  de- 
precation.)     It  ain't  enough  ! 

Re-enter  MAUD  VANNECK  from  the  parlour. 
LADY  BASSET. 

Miss  Vanneck — contribute  ! 


ACT    SECOND  117 

TEDDY,  explaining,  coaxing. 

To  the  purchase  Of  SOme  little  extra.       (Then  as  MAUD,  staring, 
gives  a  gesture  of  depressed  destitution  and  the  bell  of  the  street-door  sounds.) 

It's  Sir  Ralph  ! 

MAUD,  while  TEDDY  hurries  to  the  door. 

Get  the  money  from  him  ! 

Re-enter  Sir  RALPH  by  the  door  that  TEDDY  opens  ;  then  stops  in  dismay  at 
the  sight  of  the  two  \ 


LADY  BASSET,  instantly  advancing  upon  him. 

Will  you  give  us  half-a-crown  ? 

MAUD,  engaging. 

To  buy  some  innocent  relish. 

SIR  RALPH,  bewildered,  shocked. 

Half-a-crown — for  an  innocent  relish  ?    (Then  as  if  considering. 
It's  a  monstrous  price  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  persuasive. 

For  a  treat  to  Mr.  Bernal  ? 

TEDDY. 

He  has  nothing  for  tea  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 
Nothing  ?      (As  if  reflecting,  calculating,  while  he  takes  out  his  purse. 

Then  I'll  advance — two  shillings. 

Re-enter  MARK  BERNAL  from  the  kitchen. 


u8  THE    ALBUM 

TEDDY,  to  MAUD,  taking  the  money. 

I'll  be  back  in  a  moment ! 

Exit  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  to  the  street. 
SIR  RALPH,  to  BERNAL. 

There  are  two  shillings  to  deduct. 

BERNAL,  amused. 

I'll  deduct  them  !     Shall  I  also  deduct  the  ladies  ? 
LADY  BASSET. 

Never — till  we've  had  our  tea  ! 

MAUD,  seeing  GRACE  reappear. 

Here  it  comes  now  ! 

Re-enter  GRACE  JESMOND  with  a  tea-tray,  teapot,  cups  and  saucers. 

SIR   RALPH,  to  himself;  still  more  discomfited  and  more  aghast. 
MisS  Jesmond  !       (Then,  down  on  the  right,  resentful,  to  BERNAL,  while 
GRACE  sets  the  tray  on  the  table  before  the  chimney  and  the  other  ladies  clear 

a  place  for  it.)     Where's  your  honour  ? 

BERNAL,  vague. 

My  honour? 

SIR   RALPH,  indicating  the  women. 

Your  engagement. 

BERNAL. 
To  absorb  them  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

To  prevent  their  absorbing  me  ! 


ACT    SECOND  119 

BERNAL. 

I  have  prevented  it.     They're  making  love  to  me  ! 

SIR  RALPH,  dubious. 

Miss  Jesmond  ? 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant,  thinking. 

I'm  not  so  sure  of  Miss  Jesmond. 

SIR   RALPH,  peremptory. 

Then  what's   she   here  for  ?      (As  BERNAL  hesitates.)      She's 
here  to  make  love  to  me  ! 

BERNAL,  after  another  instant. 

I  think  you're  hard  on  her. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Didn't  she  know  I  was  coming  ? 

BERNAL. 
I  admit  she  did. 

SIR   RALPH,  triumphant. 

Then  it's  proved  ! 

BERNAL,  affected  by  what  Sir  RALPH  has  said,  worried  and  discomposed  ; 
watching  GRACE  an  instant  at  the  table  with  the  other  ladies ;  then  with  a 
nervous  laugh. 

YeS it's     "proved  "  !        (He  goes  uneasily  up  while  Lady  BASSET, 

carrying  a  cup  of  tea,  conies  down  to  Sir  RALPH.) 

LADY  BASSET. 

A  cup  of  tea,  dear  friend  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  taking  the  cup  from  her  as  if  under  uncanny  coercion  ; 
looking  at  her  in  deep  mistrust. 

What  have  you  put  in  it  ? 


120  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET,  beaming. 

My  gratitude,  Sir  Ralph  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  guarded,  blank. 

Gratitude  for  what  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  secure. 

The  devotion  you  promised. 

SIR  RALPH,  impatient. 

Oh,  damn  the  devotion  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  resentful. 

You  withhold  it  ? 

SIR  RALPH,  looking  at  her  hard  a  moment ;  then  politic,  accommodating. 
To  your  very  gOOd  health  !  (He  drains  down  the  cup,  under  her 
eye,  with  submission,  then  hands  it  summarily  back  to  her  ;  after  which  she 
goes  up  to  put  it  down  and  MAUD  descends  on  the  other  side  with  a  plate  of 
bread  and  butter.)  She  has  drugged  it  !  (Then  very  sarcastic,  as 
MAUD  offers  him  her  bread  and  butter.)  What  have  I  promised 

you? 

MAUD,  sad,  sentimental. 

Nothing,  alas  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  turning  unceremoniously  away  from  her. 

Then  I  decline  your  poison  ! 

He  crosses  to  the  other  side  of  the  stage,  as  if  to  break  with  her  for  ever,  and  she, 
checked  in  her  overture,  discouraged,  goes  up  again  with  her  plate.  TEDDY 
ASHDOWN  meanwhile  has  re-entered  from  the  street  with  his  purchase,  which 
he  lays  down  on  table  before  the  others  ;  coming  down  immediately  after  to 
Sir  RALPH. 


ACT    SECOND  121 

TEDDY,  giving  Sir  RALPH  a  sixpence  and  coppers. 

The  change. 

SIR    RALPH,  looking  at  the  money. 

Elevenpence  ? 

TEDDY. 

Tenpence  ! 

He  goes  up  while  Sir  RALPH  pockets  the  money,  and  as  he  rejoins  the  others 
GRACE  JESMOND,  who  has  drunk  her  tea  and  turned  away  from  the  table, 
stands  looking  an  instant  at  Sir  RALPH.  Then  she  comes  down  to  him  while 
BERNAL,  who  has  noticed  her  movement,  continues  to  observe  her 

GRACE,  with  veiled  irony,  to  Sir  RALPH. 

Immensely  graceful  of  you  to  sit ! 

SIR   RALPH,  with  decision. 

I  shall  not  sit ! — I  object  to  the  conditions  ! 

GRACE,  with  repressed  emotion. 

You'll  not  keep  faith  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

It's  he  who  has  broken  it ! 

GRACE. 
I  beg  you  to  accept  the  conditions. 

SIR  RALPH. 
Accept  you  as  one  of  them  ? 

GRACE,  feeling  the  impertinence,  the  insult  of  this  ;   then  quickly  controlling 
herself;  with  a  smile. 

Am  I  one  of  the  worst,  Sir  Ralph  ? 


122  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 
The  worst  for  his  job  ! 

GRACE,  considering. 

I  should  be  very  sorry  to  injure  Mr.  Bernal. 

SIR  RALPH. 

You  do  awfully,  you  know,  by  your  conduct. 

GRACE,  still  wondering. 

In  what  manner  can  I  modify  it  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 
By  ceasing  to  spring  up  in  my  path  ! 

GRACE,  smiling. 

I  only  spring  up  to  check  your  retreat  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  demurring  to  the  term. 

My  "  retreat "  ? 

GRACE. 

From  your   agreement    to   assist   Mr.  Bernal.     (After  an 
instant.)     Mr.  Bernal  needs  assistance. 

SIR   RALPH,  curt,  impatient. 

Why  on  earth  should  he  ? 

GRACE,  indicating  the  whole  place. 

Look  about  you  and  see  ! 


ACT    SECOND  123 

SIR   RALPH,  after  a  glance. 

I  see  a  lot  of  women  ! — Mark  likes  'em  !  (Then  after  an 
instant.)  I'll  sit  if  he'll  clear  the  place. 

GRACE. 
He  will — of  those  ladies. 

SIR  RALPH,  sharp. 

But  not  of  you  ? 

GRACE. 

If  he  turns  me  out  he'll  separate  me —  (Pausing,  significantly 

hesitating.) 

SIR  RALPH. 

Separate  you —  ? 

GRACE,  smiling. 

From  you,  Sir  Ralph  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

That's  exactly  What  I  demand  !  (Turning  away  from  her,  he 
crosses  to  the  other  side  of  the  stage.)  I  say,  Mark  !  (Then  on  BERNAL'S 
coming  down  as  GRACE  goes  up.)  You'll  have  tO  take  that  girl 

by  the  shoulders  !     (On  BERNAL'S  biankness.)     To  put  her  out. 

BERNAL,  thinking,  demurring,  while  he  looks  at  Sir  RALPH. 

I'm  more  and  more  struck  with  her  charm  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  as  if  scandalised. 

Her  charm  ? 

BERNAL. 

Her  spirit,  her  cleverness,  her  character !  The  more 
you've  reason  to  dread  her  the  more  she  needs  my  eye  ! 


124  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 
Your  eye  can  rest  a  bit.     I  let  you  off. 

BERNAL. 

It's  a  joy  as  well  as  a  duty  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Your  joy  should  be  to  paint  my  portrait,  and  to  clear 
the  place  for  the  purpose. 

BERNAL,  prompt. 

I'll  clear  it !     (Then  to  the  others.)     As  I  must  get  to  work 
with  Sir  Ralph  I  beg  my  pupils  to  retire ! 

LADY   BASSET,  resentful. 

Without  seeing  your  method  ? 

BERNAL,  bending  over  her  hand,  kissing  it  in  farewell. 

This,  dear  lady,  is  my   method  !     (Then  urging  her  up  to  the 

parlour  with  MAUD.)       Put  On  your  lovely  things  !       (Indicating  all 

the  tea-things.)     Teddy,  remove  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  at  door  of  the  parlour ;  to  BERNAL. 

Begin — while  I  dress  ! 

Exit  Lady  BASSET. 
MAUD,  to  Sir  RALPH,  at  the  door  of  parlour. 

That  takes  her  an  hour  ! 

Exit  MAUD  VANNECK,  while  TEDDY  ASHDOWN,  gathering  up  the  tea-things, 
goes  out  with  them  to  the  kitchen  and  Sir  RALPH,  with  bare  patience,  sits 
rigidly  detached  on  the  sofa  under  the  window. 


ACT    SECOND  125 

GRACE,  to  BERNAL. 

Do  you  begin  immediately  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  resolute. 

We  don't  begin  till  you've  gone. 

GRACE,  to  BERNAL. 

Before  I  go  I  should  like  to  speak  to  Sir  Ralph. 

SIR   RALPH,  rising  in  dismay. 

Again,  Madam  ? 

GRACE,  to  BERNAL. 

If  you'll  give  me  the  fortunate  chance. 

BERNAL. 

Do  you  mean  alone  ? 

GRACE,  smiling. 

I  mean  alone  ! 

BERNAL,  who  has  looked  at  her  hard  an  instant ;  mystified,  perplexed,  tor- 
mented by  everything  that  appears  to  give  colour  to  Sir  RALPH'S  account 
of  her. 

Shall  I  leave  you,  Ralph  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  falling  back  helpless  and  hopeless  on  the  sofa. 

I  meet  my  doom  ! 

BERNAL,  at  the  street-door,  having  taken  up  his  hat  and  holding  up  an 
empty  tube  of  oilcolour. 

There's  a  chap  next  door — I'll  borrow  some  blue  ! 

Exit  MARK  BERNAL. 


126  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  who  has  taken  up  from  the  table  where  BERNAL  has  placed  it  after 
tearing  out  the  leaf  the  album  of  Act  First. 

Allow  me  tO  ask  (after  an  instant,  while  she  looks  at  the  book)  if  you've 

ever  seen  this. 

SIR   RALPH,  from  the  sofa,  with  his  glass. 

That? 

GRACE,  holding  out  the  album. 

This  sketchbook. 

SIR   RALPH,  struck,  then  slowly  rising. 

Seen  it  ?— Where  ? 

GRACE. 
At  Courtlands — the  hour  you  arrived. 

SIR  RALPH. 
How  can  I  remember  what  I  saw  the  hour  I  arrived  ? 

GRACE. 
Mr.  Ashdown  can  remember.     He  told  me. 

SIR    RALPH,  startled,  staring. 

Told  you  ? 

GRACE. 

Half  an  hour  later.     That  you  had  seen  Mr.  Bernal's 
name. 

SIR  RALPH. 

His  name — where  ? 

GRACE,  handing  him  the  album. 

On  that  page — with  that  date. 


ACT    SECOND  127 

SIR    RALPH,  with  the  album  ;  looking  hard  an  instant  at  the  page  ;  then 
hard  an  instant  at  GRACE. 

I  believe  I  have.     What  then  ? 


GRACE. 

You  denied  it — in  my  own  presence.     (Then  after  an  instant.) 
You  denied  it  to  the  Vicar. 

SIR   RALPH,  after  looking  at  the  book  again,  chucking  it  away  as  if  with 
indignant  impatience. 

What  the  devil  are  you  talking  about  ? 

GRACE. 

About  the  great  wrong  you  were  guilty  of.     You  deceived 
a  dying  man — you  robbed  a  living. 

SIR  RALPH. 
Living  ?     I  didn't  dream  he  was  living  ! 

GRACE. 

It  seems  to  me  that  book  might  have  made  you  dream  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

It  would  if  I  had  seen  it  in  time. 

GRACE. 

You    did   see  it   in  time — in   time   to   show  it   to  Mr. 
Ashdown. 

SIR   RALPH,  staring,  as  if  recalling. 

That  was  after  the  Vicar — 


128  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  as  he  just  hesitates. 

Had  put  you  that  solemn  question  ?      No,  Sir  Ralph, 
Mr.  Ashdown  has  satisfied  me  that  it  was  before. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Satisfied  you  ?     How  ? 

GRACE. 

By  his  comparison  of  notes  with  me,  and  by  his  positive 
declaration. 

SIR  RALPH. 

His  positive  declaration's  a  lie. 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

Will  you  say  that  to  him  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 
With  all  the  pleasure  in  life  ! 

GRACE,  passing  to  the  kitchen. 

Then  I'll  call  him  to  hear  it ! 

SIR   RALPH,  as  she  reaches  the  door. 

A  moment,   Madam.       (Then  after  an  instant  abrupt,  as  she  stops  with 
her  hand  on  the  latch.)       What  is  it  yOU  Want  ? 

GRACE,  vague  an  instant. 

Want? 

SIR   RALPH. 

To  let  me  alone.     (As  she  leaves  the  door.)     I  asked  you  that, 
you  know,  at  Courtlands. 


ACT    SECOND  129 

GRACE. 
Yes,  and  I  told  you  to  guess. 

SIR  RALPH,  after  an  instant. 

I  couldn't  guess  so  soon. 

GRACE. 
Can  you  guess  at  present? 

SIR  RALPH,  after  consideration. 

Fifty  pounds  ? 

GRACE,  echoing,  stupefied. 

Fifty  pounds  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

Not  enough?  A  hundred?  (Then  at  a  loss ;  as  she  only  stands 
looking  at  him.)  It's  not  money  ?  (As  if  with  a  fuller  vision  of  the  real 
question  and  his  inevitable  fate.)  It's  the  Other  thing  ? 

GRACE,  back  at  the  kitchen,  while  MARK  BERNAL  reappears. 

It's  the  other  thing  ! 

Exit  GRACE  JESMOND. 
SIR   RALPH,  aghast,  fatalistic,  to  himself,  as  BERNAL  comes  in. 

Marriage  ! 

Re-enter  MARK  BERNAL  from  the  street. 

BERNAL,  struck,  arrested  by  Sir  RALPH'S  appearance  and  discomposure  ; 
speaking  with  the  note  of  real  anxiety. 

She  has  proposed  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  throwing  up  his  arms  from  his  sides  and  letting  them  fall. 

She  has  proposed  ! 


130  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL.  dismayed,  credulous. 

And  you've  accepted  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

I've  asked  for  a  minute  ! 

BERNAL,  wonderstruck,  turning  it  over. 

A  minute  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

To  decide — to  think  ! 

BERNAL,    uneasy,    painfully   mystified  ;    throwing    himself   quickly,    in    the 
interest  of  delay,  of  diversion,  into  the  question  of  the  portrait ;   shifting 
his  easel. 

That's  it — you'll  decide  at  your  ease ;  you'll  think  while 
you  sit ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

I'll  be  hanged  if  I'll  Sit  !  (Then  after  an  instant,  while  BERNAL 
stares  with  dismay.)  At  any  rate  not  here.  (As  TEDDY  reappears  : 
re-enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  from  the  kitchen.)  I'll  sit  at  home. 

TEDDY,  surprised,  ejaculating. 

At  home  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  looking  very  hard  at  TEDDY. 

At  home. 


TEDDY,  mystified,  bewildered  by  the  way  Sir  RALPH  glares  at  him, 
fascinatedly  returns  his  stare  ;  then  to  BERNAL. 

May  I  go  out  ? 


ACT    SECOND  131 

SIR    RALPH,  precipitately  interposing. 

Go  out  ?     Never  ! 

BERNAL,  surprised,  pleading. 

Dear  Ralph,  it's  his  day  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  in  alarm. 

His    "  day  "  ?       (Then,  while  the  two  ladies  reappear ;  as  if  everything  is 
overwhelmingly  against  him.)        Mercy  011  US  ! 

Re-enter  Lady  BASSET  and  MAUD  VANNKCK  from  the  parlour,  dressed  for 
departure. 

TEDDY,  delighted. 
I'll     gO    With     theill  !        (Then    to    the    ladies,    indicating   Sir   RALPH.) 

He'll  sit  at  home  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 
At    home  ?       (Coming  down  to  Sir  RALPH,  who,  on  the  right,  has  collapsed 

upon  the  sofa.)     I  shall  be  there  ! 

Exit  Lady  BASSET  to  the  street,  the  door  to  which  BERNAL  holds  open. 
MAUD,  coming  down  to  Sir  RALPH  ;  disgusted. 

I  shall  not! 

She  goes  up  as  BERNAL  comes  down,  and  is  received  by  TEDDY,  who  offers  her 
his  arm.     Exeunt  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  and  MAUD  VANNECK  to  the  street. 

SIR   RALPH ,  who  has  sat  engulfed  in  reflections,  wholly  heedless  of  what  the 
two  women  have  said  to  him,  rises  grave  and  pale ;  then  to  BERNAL. 

I've  decided  ! 

BERNAL,  eager. 

You  refuse  ? 


132  THE    ALBUM 

SIR   RALPH,  fatalistic. 

I  accept  ! 

BERNAL,  dismayed. 

On  the  spot  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

It's  tO  COme  !  (Lifting  and  dropping  his  arms  to  his  sides  as  before.) 
Let  it  COme  !  (Then  as  GRACE  reappears  :  re-enter  GRACE  JESMOND 
from  the  kitchen,  dressed  to  go.) 


BERNAL,  still  more  alert,  anticipating,  interposing. 

Miss  Jesmond  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  while  GRACE,  surprised,  arrested  by  the  intensity  of  BERNAL'S 
tone,  stands  looking  from  one  of  the  men  to  the  other. 

I've  something  to  say  to  you. 

BERNAL,  strenuous,  insistent,  with  a  gravity  and  anxiety  altogether  new,  like 
his  whole  aspect  and  manner  in  what  follows. 

/'ve  something  to  say  first  ! 

GRACE,  uncertain. 

To  me,  Mr.  Bernal  ? 

BERNAL,  indicating  RALPH. 

To  him  !  (Then  very  urgent.)  While  I  say  it  will  you  kindly 
wait? 

GRACE,  still  more  vague. 

Wait? 

BERNAL,  who  has  opened  the  door  of  the  parlour. 

In  there  !  (GRACE  hesitates  an  instant,  looking  in  the  same  wondering  per- 
plexity from  one  of  the  men  to  the  other.  Then,  after  resting  her  eyes  intensely 
on  BERNAL'S,  she  abruptly  decides  and  goes  quickly  into  the  parlour.  BERNAL 


ACT    SECOND  133 

closes  the  door  on  her  and,  with  his  eyes  on  Sir  RALPH,  stands  a  moment  holding 
the  handle.     Then  coming  down  with  decision,  and  with  the  rising  passion  of  all 

his  doubt  in  the  question.)     That  girl — after  your  fortune  ? 


SIR  RALPH. 

After    my   fortune and    (hesitating  an  instant,  as  if  in  resentment  at 

that's  being   thought    his  only  attraction,   while  he  smartly   taps  his  breast) 

after  me! 

BERNAL,  worried,  frowning,  challenging,  incredulous. 

You  say  she  proposed  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  very  definite. 

She  made  me  an  offer  ! 


But  of  what  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

Why,  of  her  hand — and  her  person. 

BERNAL,  amazed. 

You  didn't  understand  her  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

It  was  painfully  clear. 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant. 

My  dear  Ralph — I  don't  believe  it ! 

SIR   RALPH,  after  another  instant. 

You  impute  to  me — misrepresentation  ? 


134  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
I    impute    tO    yOU aberration!       (Then  as  if  he  can't  get  over  it.) 

You  intend  to  marry  her? 

SIR   RALPH,  fully  determined  ;  as  if  with  the  resignation  of  the  highest 
wisdom  and  enlightenment. 

It  will  keep  her  quiet ! 

BERNAL,  dissuasive,  ironic. 

An  intrigante — of  a  dangerous  type  ? 

SIR  RALPH,  demonstrating  his  cleverness. 

I  conjure  the  danger  away ! 

BERNAL,  almost  derisive. 

A  hungry  adventuress  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 
I  thought  yOU  Contested  that  !       (Then  as  BERNAL,  in  his  agitation, 

moves  nervously  away.)     She  has  beauty — and  mind  ! 

BERNAL,  echoing,  realising. 
Beauty    and     mind  !         (Then  in  a  different  tone,  with  high  decision.) 

My  dear  fellow,  you  mustn't  do  it ! 

SIR    RALPH,  irritated  at  his  opposition. 

To  oblige  you  ? 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant. 

To  oblige  me ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Pray,  are  you  in  love  with  her  ? 


ACT    SECOND  135 

BERNAL,  evasive. 
If    I    am,   it's    your  fault.       (As  if  it  settles  the  matter.)       YOU  told 

me  to  be  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  positive. 

I  told  you  to  pull  up  ! 

BERNAL. 

It  was  too  late  to  pull  up — and  it's  too  late  now. 

SIR   RALPH,  more  uneasy,  suspicious,  wondering. 

Now? 

BERNAL,  smiling. 

I  want  to  keep  on  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  in  still  deeper  disapproval  and  alarm. 

Paying  your  court  ? 

BERNAL. 
Paying  my  court ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

To  make  her  your  wife  ? 

BERNAL. 
TO  make  her  (in  deep  uncertainty,  agitation,  distraction,  faltering)    I'll 

be  hanged  if  I  know  what  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  as  if  following  up  an  advantage  and  looking  about  him  in 
reprobation. 

The  partner  of  your  misery  ? 

BERNAL,  in  despair,  troubled,  impatient  compunction. 

YeS I'm   tOO  deadly  pOOr  !       (Then  after  an  instant,  with  returning 

clearness  and  resolution.)         But    I    do    knOW    what    I    Want.          I 

want  to  prevent  you  ! 


I36  THE    ALBUM 

SIR   RALPH,  wound  up,  taking  up  the  challenge. 

YOU  shan't    prevent   me  !       (Then  at  the  door  of  the  parlour,  which  he 
has  quickly  opened.) 


BERNAL,  as  quickly  opening  the  door  to  the  street,  while  GRACE  reappears. 

Miss  Jesmond  ! 

Re-enter  GRACE  JESMOND. 
SIR   RALPH,  pressing. 

Will  you  do  me  a  favour  ? 

BERNAL,  forestalling  her  answer  ;  passionate. 

Will  you  do  me  one  first  ? 

GRACE,  still  more  mystified  by  their  heated  aspect  ;  looking  from  one  to  the 
other  and  then  addressing  BERNAI.. 

Anything  —  for  you  ! 

BERNAL. 
Then  walk  out  of  the  house  ! 

GRACE,  startled,  pained,  for  the  moment,  by  the  manner  of  the  request. 

Out  of  the  house  —  ? 

BERNAL,  feverishly  peremptory  ;  pointing  to  the  open  door. 

This  moment  ! 

GRACE,  looking  once  more  from  one  of  the  men  to  the  other  as  they  stand  on 
either  side  of  the  stage  ;  then,  with  a  visible  effort,  deciding  and  sadly, 
supremely  addressing  BERNAL. 

Good-bye  ! 

Exit  GRACE  JESMOND,  while  the  two  men  stand  defiantly  confronted. 


ACT    THIRD 


Sir  RALPH  DAMANT'S  drawing-room  in  Portland  Place  ;  hand- 
some, cold,  conventional  and  characteristic.  A  door  at  the  centre 
from  the  hall  and  staircase  ;  doors  right  and  left  from  other  reception 
rooms. 

GRACE  JESMOND  is  seated  in  her  hat  and  cape ;  not  the  same  garments  as  in 
Act  Second,  but,  as  to  mourning,  perceptibly  modified  and  brightened.  The 
FOOTMAN  who  has  appeared  in  Act  First  enters  from  the  hall. 

FOOTMAN. 

I  find  Sir  Ralph  is  not  at  home,  Miss ;  but  he  gave 
orders  that  if  you  should  call  you  were  to  be  particularly 
asked  to  wait. 

GRACE. 
Till  he  comes  in  ? 

FOOTMAN. 

He  may  be  expected  at  any  moment. 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

When  were  these  orders  given  ? 

FOOTMAN. 

On  Thursday,  Miss,  on  our  return  from  Vandyke  Lodge. 

(Then  expansive,  as  if  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  converse.)       I   was    there 

with  the  carriage — and  I  joined  in  the  chase. 


138  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  struck. 

The  chase  ? 

FOOTMAN. 

For  you,  Miss.      Sir  Ralph  drove  hard — to  catch  up 
with  you. 

GRACE,  after  an  instant ;  quiet. 

He  didn't  catch  up. 

FOOTMAN,  smiling. 

We  had  wasted  precious  moments. 

GRACE. 
You  mustn't  waste  them  now. 

FOOTMAN. 
He  remarked  that  you'd  turn  up  ! 

GRACE,  after  reflection. 

Since  I'm  expected,  I'll  wait. 

FOOTMAN,  increasingly  sociable.       ' 

We've  another  party  in  another  room. 

GRACE,  rising,  wondering. 

Another  party  ? 

FOOTMAN. 

From  Vandyke  Lodge. 

GRACE,  startled,  changing  her  mind. 

I  believe,  after  all,  I  won't  wait !  • 


ACT    THIRD  139 


FOOTMAN,  as  TEDDY  appears. 

Here's  the  other  party. 


Oh! 


Enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  from  the  right. 
GRACE,  dropping  into  her  chair  again  with  relief. 


TEDDY,  much  pleased. 

You're  just  the  person  I  want ! 

FOOTMAN,  privately ;  ironical. 

All  of  'em  ?     Gracious  ! 

Exit  the  FOOTMAN  to  the  hall. 
GRACE,  rising  again  ;  anxious. 

Is  Mr.  Bernal  here  ? 

TEDDY. 

He'd  be  if  he  suspected  you  are  !     I'm  looking  for  him, 
and  he's  looking  for  Miss  Jesmond. 

GRACE. 
He's  coming  for  the  portrait  ? 

TEDDY. 

By  appointment.     They've  patched  it  up. 

GRACE,  vague. 

The  portrait  ? 

TEDDY. 

Oh  no — their  quarrel ! 

GRACE,  still  vague. 

Their  quarrel  ? 


I4o  THE    ALBUM 

TEDDY. 
About  you  !     I  know  what  happened. 

GRACE,  smiling. 

That's  more  than  I  do,  Mr.  Ashdown  ! 

TEDDY. 

Then  I'll  tell  you. 

GRACE,  postponing. 

When  does  Mr.  Bernal  come  ? 

TEDDY,  looking  at  his  watch. 

Not  till  twelve.  He  put  me  on  a  'bus  with  the  traps — 
they're  all  in  there.  (indicating  the  adjoining  room.)  He's 
walking  to  save  the  fare. 

GRACE. 
Then  he'll  take  some  time  ? 

TEDDY. 

He  crawls  along — because  he  looks  out  for  you  in  the 
streets.  He  peeps  under  every  bonnet !  He  has  sent 
me  to  all  those  fellows  for  news  of  you. 

GRACE. 
The  artists  ?     I've  been  to  none  of  them. 

TEDDY. 

He  said  you'd  require  to  go. 

GRACE. 
I  do   "  require  "  !       (Then  after  an  instant.)       But  I   don't  gO. 


ACT    THIRD  141 


TEDDY,  afte 

You  come  here  instead. 

GRACE. 
I  come  here  instead. 

TEDDY. 

But  not,  I  fear,  for  Mark. 

GRACE. 
Not  for  Mr.  Bernal.     For  Sir  Ralph  Damant. 

TEDDY,  after  another  moment. 

Was  it  for  Sir  Ralph  you  came  to  us  ? 

GRACE. 

It  was  for  myself. 

TEDDY. 

That  was  what  their  row  was  about — when  Mark  was  so 
rude. 

GRACE. 

How  rude  was  Mr.  Bernal  ? 

TEDDY. 

Rude  enough  to  repent !      He  has  repented  fearfully  of 
what  he  did  to  you. 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

He  asked  me  to  leave  his  house. 

TEDDY. 

Oh,  he  has  told  me  ;  he  talks  of  nothing  else  ! 


142  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE. 
I've  talked  of  it — to  no  one. 

TEDDY,  alert. 

Then  you've  forgiven  him  ? 

GRACE,  with  the  same  smile. 

I've  forgiven  him. 

TEDDY,  with  the  same  eagerness. 

May  I  tell  him,  when  he  comes  ? 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

I've  asked  you  before  to  keep  a  secret. 

TEDDY. 
About     that    Sketch-book  ?       (With  emphatic  satisfaction.)         I've 

kept  it ! 

GRACE. 

Beautifully.     Then  keep  this  one. 

TEDDY,  vague. 

Your  forgiving  him  ? 

GRACE. 
My  being  in  this  place.      I  wish  not  to  see  him. 

TEDDY,   perceptibly  mystified. 

And  yet  you  remain  ? 


ACT    THIRD  143 

GRACE. 

Only  for  one  reason, — that  if  I  go  now  I  shall  not  have 
courage  to  return. 


"  Courage  "  ? 

GRACE. 
It  was  not  easy  ! 

TEDDY. 

To  face  Sir  Ralph  ?     Why,  /  have  to  ! 

GRACE,  after  a  moment. 

Yes — you  have  to. 

TEDDY. 

I  do  it  for  Mark  ! 

GRACE,  after  an  instant ;  with  her  tired  smile. 

And  /  do  it  for  "  Mark  " !     To  render  him  a  service. 

TEDDY,  eager. 

Then  you  like  him  ? 

GRACE,  hesitating,  but  still  smiling. 

You  ask  too  many  questions  ! 

TEDDY. 

I  asked  that  one  because  he  likes  you 

GRACE. 

I  guessed  so  when  he  turned  me  out. 


I44  THE    ALBUM 

TEDDY. 
Did  you  ?     He  has  been  afraid  you  wouldn't ! 

GRACE. 

I  didn't  at  first.      But  then  I  thought  about  it. 

TEDDY,  sympathetically  interested. 

And  then  it  came  to  you  ? 

GRACE. 

Little  by  little.    (After  a  moment.)    It  came  to  me  last  night. 

TEDDY. 

And  that  brought  you  here  ? 

GRACE. 

Early,  as  you  see.     To  acknowledge  his  favour  ! 

TEDDY. 

But  how — if  you  don't  meet  him  ? 

GRACE. 

I  shall  meet  Sir  Ralph. 

TEDDY,  alert. 

Meet  him  and  refuse  him  ? 

GRACE,  consciously  blank. 

"  Refuse  "  him  ? 

TEDDY,  surprised  at  her  blankness. 

Doesn't  he  want  to  marry  you  ? 


ACT    THIRD  145 

GRACE,  grave. 

Quite  the  contrary  ! 

TEDDY. 

And  you  don't  want  it  ? 

GRACE,  with  controlled  emotion  ;  after  an  instant. 

Has  he  asserted  that  ? 

TEDDY. 

To  Mark — on  Thursday.     You  made  him  an  offer. 

GRACE,  rising  quickly. 

Which  he  saw  reason  to  accept — precisely  ! 

TEDDY. 

It  was  why  Mark  banished  you.     To  separate  the  parties 
— to  avert  the  danger  ! 

GRACE. 
To  prevent  Sir  Ralph's  accepting  ? 

TEDDY. 

To  choke  him  right  off! 

GRACE,  eager. 

Mr.  Bernal  believed  it  ? 


TEDDY,  vague. 

That  Sir  Ralph  would  ? 

VOL.  II 


146  THE  ALBUM 

GRACE. 
No — that  I  had  done  such  a  thing. 

TEDDY,  after  an  instant's  reflection. 

It  didn't  prevent  him  from  wanting  you — 

GRACE,  as  he  modestly  pauses. 

"Wanting"  me? 

TEDDY. 

For  his  own  use  ! 

GRACE,  dropping  into  a  seat  again;   sitting  there  an  instant  in  thought ;  then 
rising  and  with  frankness  and  courage,  as  well  as  with  a  forced  gaiety  in- 
tended to  dissimulate  her  sadness  and  make  her  discussion  of  such  a  matter 
with  TEDDY  pass. 

Mr.  Bernal  may  "  want "  me,   Mr.  Ashdown ;    but  Mr. 
Bernal  can't  have  me  ! 

TEDDY,  vague,  disappointed. 

Can't  have  you  ? 

GRACE. 
It  ties  my  hands. 

TEDDY,  blank. 

I  don't  understand  ! 

GRACE. 

I  do — at  last !     I   had  thought  it  all  out — but  you 
greatly  help  me. 

TEDDY,  kind,  simple,  loyal. 

I  want  to  greatly  help  you. 

GRACE. 

You  did  so,  you  know,  at  Courtlands. 


ACT    THIRD  147 

TEDDY. 

By  holding  my  tongue  ?     It  was  hard  ! 

GRACE. 

I  shall  set  you  to-day  an  easier  task.      You  will  be  so 
good  as  to  speak. 

TEDDY,  alert. 

Tell  Mr.  Bernal— ? 

GRACE,  interrupting. 

That  I'm  in  the  house. 

TEDDY. 

But  where  shall  you  be  ? 

GRACE,  at  a  momentary  loss ;  looking  round  her,  then  pointing  to  the  door 
on  the  left. 

In  there. 

TEDDY. 

Why  not  in  here  ? 

GRACE. 

So  you  may  prepare  him. 

TEDDY,  blank. 

"  Prepare  "  him  ? 

GRACE. 

Give  him  his  choice — of  seeing  me  or  not. 

TEDDY,  laughing. 

He'll  take  it !     (Then  more  gravely.)     And  if  I  speak  for  you, 
will  you  speak  for  me  ? 


148  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  vague. 

To  whom  ? 

TEDDY. 

To  "  dear  Maud."     I  want  her — for  my  own  use  ! 

GRACE,  smiling. 

I'll  approach  her — if  I've  a  chance. 

.TEDDY,  with  resolution. 

I'll  make  you  one  ! 

Re-enter  the  FOOTMAN  from  the  hall. 
FOOTMAN,  to  GRACE. 

Mr.  Bernal. 

GRACE,  startled. 

Coming  up  ? 

FOOTMAN,  who  has  crossed  to  the  door  on  the  left,  which  he  has  opened. 

If  you'll  pass  in  there. 

TEDDY,  anxious,  while  GRACE  reaches  the  other  room. 

Can  I  trust  you  ? 

GRACE,  at  the  door,  with  a  smile. 

If  you  can  trust  her  ! 

Exit  GRACE  JESMOND  to  the  left. 
FOOTMAN,  explaining,  after  closing  the  door  on  her. 

Sir  Ralph's  orders. 

„  TEDDY,  vague. 

His  orders  ? 


ACT    THIRD  149 

FOOTMAN. 
If  Mr.  Bernal  should  come. 


TEDDY,  disconcerted. 

He's  not  to  see  her? 

FOOTMAN,  self-complacent,  responsible. 

For  fear  of  complications  ! 

TEDDY,  disgusted;  thinking. 
Why,  what  does    Sir    Ralph  Call  that  ?      (Then  seeing  BERNAL.) 

Silence  ! 

Enter  MARK  BERNAL  from  the  hall.    Exit  the  FOOTMAN  to  the  hall. 

BERNAL. 
Ralph's  not  here  ? 

TEDDY. 

I've  been  waiting. 

BERNAL. 
With  everything  ready  ? 

TEDDY,  embarrassed,  at  fault. 

Not  yet ;  I  thought — 

BERNAL,  breaking  in  ;  with  kindly  impatience. 

You  think  too  much — you  always  did /     (Then  indicating  the 

door  on  the  right.)       Be  quick  ! 

TEDDY,  demurring,  hesitating. 

Before  I  go — 


i5o  THE   ALBUM 

BERNAL,  as  he  pauses. 

Before  you  go  ? 

TEDDY. 

Miss  Jesmond's  in  the  house  ! 

BERNAL,  amazed. 

Here? — now? 

TEDDY. 

She  told  me  to  tell  you. 

BERNAL,  eager. 

Then  I  can  see  her  ? 

TEDDY. 

You  can  see  her. 

BERNAL,  struck,  in  the  midst  of  his  relief;  mistrustful,  wondering. 

But  what's  she  doing  ? 

TEDDY,  vague. 

Doing  ? 

BERNAL. 

For  what  purpose  has  she  come  ? 

TEDDY. 

For  the  purpose  of  helping  you. 

BERNAL,  blank. 

But  how  in  the  world — ? 

TEDDY. 

I  give  it  up  ! 


ACT    THIRD  151 

BERNAL,  uneasy,  peremptory ;  suddenly  nervous  and  discomposed  ;  passing 
his  hand  over  his  head. 

Make  ready  ! 

Re-enter,  as  he  speaks,  the  FOOTMAN  from  the  hall. 
SERVANT,  announcing. 

Lady  Basset ! 

BERNAL,  starting,  as  if  struck  with  a  quick  idea,  then  still  more  imperative,  to 
TEDDY,  who   has  lingered,  looking  at  him,  with  a  hand  on  the  door  at 
the  right. 

Leave  us ! 


Exit  TEDDY  ASHDOWN  to  the  right.     Enter  Lady  BASSET  from  the  hall. 
Exit  the  FOOTMAN. 


BERNAL,  as  if  amused. 

How  did  you  get  in  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

The  butler  passed  me  up.    (jubilant,  exultant.)     I'm  invited  ! 

BERNAL. 

By  Sir  Ralph  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

By  Sir  Ralph.     (Triumphant.)     He  wants  me  ! 

BERNAL,  surprised. 

For  what  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  with.lively  confidence. 

You'll  see  when  he  comes  ! 


152  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL. 

But  he  doesn't  come  !      (Looking  at  his  watch.)      You   must 
help  me  to  bear  it. 

LADY  BASSET,  self-complacent,  coquettish. 

I  helped  you,  you  know,  to  bear  it  the  other  day  ! 

BERNAL,  preoccupied  with  the  idea  of  GRACE'S  presence. 

Indeed  you  did — immensely  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

We  had  recourse  to  my  artistic  nature. 

BERNAL,  vague. 

Do  you  wish  to  have  recourse  to  it  again  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  after  serious  reflection. 
Not    tO     the     Same    extent.        (Then  with  serenity  and  lucidity.)       If 

I  was  present  the  other  day  as  an  artist,  I'm   present 
to-day  as  a  woman. 

BERNAL,  with  the  same  vagueness  as  before. 

Is  it  in  that  capacity  he  has  sent  for  you  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  blank. 

In  what  other  capacity,  pray — ?     (After  an  instant.)     The 
very  servants  recognise  it ! 

BERNAL,  not  following. 

Recognise  it —  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

By  their  eagerness  to  usher  me  in  ! 


ACT    THIRD  153 

BERNAL,  suddenly  struck  ;  with  a  light. 

In  here — to  me  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  vague,  surprised  at  the  point  he  makes  of  this. 

They  mentioned  I  should  find  you  ! 

BERNAL,  as  the  fuller  light  breaks  upon  him  ;  with  amused  elation  ; 
seizing  her  arm. 

That's  what  he  wanted  of  you  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  blank,  disconcerted. 

To  amuse  you  ? 

BERNAL. 

To  captivate  me — as  he  wants  me  to  captivate  you  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  candid,  jovial. 

You  do,  my  dear  man  ! 

BERNAL,  laughing. 

And  so  do  you  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

But  why  does  Sir  Ralph  desire  it  ? 

BERNAL 

To  protect  himself.     He  fears  you. 

LADY  BASSET,  exultant. 

I  feel  that  he  does  ! 

BERNAL,  amused  and  relieved  by  his  discovery. 

I  see  it  all ! 


154  THE    ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET. 
All  What  ? 

BERNAL. 

Why,  he  means  you  to  draw  me  off! 
LADY  BASSET,  vague. 

Off  somebody  else  ? 

BERNAL,  smiling. 

A  person  he  wants  for  himself! 

LADY  BASSET,  struck,  alarmed. 

For  himself  ?     (Then  with  quick  dismay.)     Maud  Vanneck  ? 

BERNAL,  amused. 

No,  not  Maud  Vanneck. 

LADY  BASSET,  thinking  ;  then  with  eager  intensity. 

Grace  Jesmond  ? 

BERNAL. 
She's  in  the  house  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  still  more  alarmed. 

Invited  ? 

BERNAL. 

No,  not  invited — he  hasn't  her  address. 

LADY  BASSET. 
She  has  come  of  herself  ? 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant,  as  if  recognising  the  full  gravity  of  this. 

She  has  come  of  herself. 


ACT    THIRD  155 

LADY  BASSET,  stupefied,  scandalised. 

What  effrontery  ! 

BERNAL. 

Her  reason  is  doubtless  good. 

LADY  BASSET,  as  if  struck  with  the  tone  in  which  he  says  this. 

You're  in  love  with  her  ? 

BERNAL. 
Ralph  thinks  so. 

LADY  BASSET,  imperative. 

Then  for  God's  sake  marry  her  ! 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant ;  troubled,  sincere. 

How  can  I — in  my  position  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  coinciding. 

Yes — she's  after  money.    (Then  with  decision.)    But  she  won't 
get  it ! 

BERNAL. 
Do  you  mean  that  you  will  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  after  an  instant. 

Sir  Ralph  is  pledged  to  me. 

BERNAL,  uncertain,  bewildered,  nervous. 

Then  why  does  he  want  her  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  blank  a  moment ;  then  with  resentment. 

Because  he's  false  ! 


156  THE   ALBUM 

BERNAL,  pleading. 

Ah,  no — he's  honest !    (After  an  instant.)    See  how  he  makes 
us  meet ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

You  and  me  ? 

BERNAL. 
For  you  to  swallow  me  up  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  impressed  with  the  unsuspected  truth. 

And  you  to  swallow  me  ? 

BERNAL,  smiling. 

So  that  you  won't  have  room  for  him  !     (After  an  instant.) 
You  admitted  just  now  that  there  wasn't  much  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  with  decision. 

You're  a  very  brilliant  man,  but  I  reject  you. 

BERNAL. 
Ralph  has  counted  on  your  appreciating  me  enough — 

(Hesitating,  pausing,  as  if  with  a  last  scruple  ;  then  in  a  changed  tone.)     Hang 

it — I  can  tell  you  now  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  eager. 

To  let  Sir  Ralph  off? 

BERNAL. 
To  be  merciful. 

LADY  BASSET. 

For  the  benefit  of  that  creature  ?     Never ! 

BERNAL. 
You  really  hold  out  ? 


ACT    THIRD  157 

LADY  BASSET. 

Against  you  ?     I  loathe  you  ! 

BERNAL. 

And  you  permit  me  to  loathe  back  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

If  you  love  another  woman  ! 

BERNAL. 

I  haven't  told  you  I  do ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

That's  because  you're  such  a  flirt.  You  won't  part  with 
one  victim — 

BERNAL,  laughing,  interrupting. 

Before  I  make  sure  of  another  ?  (Then  again  preoccupied.) 
Yes,  I  must  make  sure.  (After  an  instant.)  And  while  I'm 
making  sure — 

LADY  BASSET. 

/  shall  be  doing  the  same  ! 

BERNAL,  amused. 

You'll  be  all  there  ? 

LADY  BASSET,  with  clear  resolution. 

All  here  ! 

BERNAL,  after  a  moment's  intense  reflection  ;  going  up  to  the  bell, 
which  he  ring  . 

I  must  see  my  way  ! 


158  THE   ALBUM 

LADY    BASSET,  vague. 

What  are  you  doing  ? 

BERNAL. 
I'm    making    SUre  !         (Re-enter  the  FOOTMAN  from  the  hall.     To  the 

FOOTMAN.)    Am  I  correct  in  believing  that  Miss  Jesmond's 
in  the  house  ? 

FOOTMAN,  embarrassed. 

Did  the  young  gentleman  tell  you,  sir  ? 

BERNAL. 
Of  course  the  young  gentleman  told  me. 

FOOTMAN. 
Would  it  do  for  me,  then,  to  deny  it  ? 

BERNAL,  staring. 

Deny  it  ?     Why  should  you  deny  it  ? 

FOOTMAN. 
Because  Sir  Ralph  said  she  wasn't  to  see  you. 

BERNAL,  struck ;  then  with  high  decision. 

Then  he  should  be  at  home  to  prevent  it ! 

FOOTMAN. 
He  may  be  at  any  moment,  sir. 

BERNAL. 

Then  I  must  see  her  quickly  ! 


ACT    THIRD  159 

FOOTMAN. 
I'll  inform  her. 

Exit  the  FOOTMAN  to  the  left,  leaving  the  door  open. 
LADY  BASSET. 

She  can  scarcely  be  said  to  shrink  ! 

BERNAL,  amused. 

If  you  compare  it  with  your  shrinkage  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

Mine,   such   as   it   is,  forbids   me   to   witness  your  en- 
counter ! 

BERNAL,  indicating  the  room  on  the  right. 

Then  kindly  pass  in  there. 

LADY  BASSET,  vaguely  demurring. 

In  there  ? 

BERNAL. 

Where  Sir  Ralph's  to  sit. 

LADY  BASSET,  at  the  door,  alert. 

I'll  wait  for  him  ! 

Exit  Lady  BASSET  to  the  right.     Re-enter  GRACE  JESMOND  from  the  left. 
GRACE,  pausing  where  she  enters. 

I   asked   Mr.  Ashdown   to  tell  you  of  my  presence — 
strange  as  it  must  inevitably  appear  to  you. 


160  THE    ALBUM 

BERNAL. 

As  your  presence  must  appear  ? 
GRACE. 
No — as  my  request  to  him  must. 

BERNAL. 

In  the  light  of  the  extraordinary  leave  I  last  asked  you 
to  take  of  me  ?  It's  to  explain  that  monstrous  proceed- 
ing that  I  have  begged  for  these  words  with  you.  I've 
hunted  for  you  hard,  but  in  vain — to  make  you  hear 

them. 

GRACE. 

There  is  a  word  I  myself  should  like  to  speak.  (After  an 
instant.)  The  simple  request  to  you  to  believe — 

BERNAL,  waiting,  as  she  pauses. 

To  believe  ? 

GRACE. 

Nothing  Sir  Ralph  Damant  may  say  of  me. 

BERNAL. 

You're  aware  then  of  what  he  has  in  fact  said  ? 

GRACE. 
It's  because  I  think  I  divine  it  that  I've  come  here. 

BERNAL,  after  an  instant. 

Not,  I  suppose,  at  his  request. 

GRACE. 

He  couldn't  request  me — in  ignorance  of  where  to  find 
me. 


ACT    THIRD  161 

BERNAL. 

The  ignorance  you've  me  to  thank  for  ! 

GRACE. 

As  I  do  thank  you,  Mr.  Bernal. 

BERNAL. 

You  thank  me  for  showing  you  the  door,  for  turning  you 
out  of  my  house  ? — turning  you  without  mercy  into  the 
great  city  you  had  scoured  in  vain,  and  in  which  I 
myself  soon  enough  cursed  the  folly  that  had  deprived 
me  of  a  possible  clue  to  you  ? 

GRACE. 
We  meet  again  in  spite  of  that  folly. 

BERNAL. 

We  meet  again  in  spite  of  it.  (Then  after  an  instant.)  But  we 
meet  again  in  a  manner  to  which  it  would  take  but  little 
more  of  my  perplexity  to  make  me  prefer  our  separation. 

GRACE,  after  a  hesitation. 

Is  that  because  you  do  believe  Sir  Ralph  ? 

BERNAL. 

If  he  has  told  me  a  strange  story  of  you,  why  do  you, 
on  your  side,  take  a  step  which  gives  a  detestable 
colour  to  it  ? 

GRACE. 

This  step  of  coming  to  see  him  ?  Because  it's  the  only 
way  to  say  to  him — something  that  I  have  to  say. 

VOL.   II  M 


162  THE   ALBUM 

BERNAL. 

I've  no  right  whatever  to  ask  you  what  that  may  be. 

GRACE. 

I've  a  limited  power,  none  the  less,  to  tell  you.  He  has 
misunderstood  me  ;  and  it  is  important  to  me  that  he 
should  be  informed  that  he  has. 

BERNAL. 
Important  ?      (Then  after  an  instant,  half-impatient,  half-pleading.)      Ah, 

why  is  it  important  ? 

GRACE,  hesitating,  momentarily  embarrassed. 

I'm  afraid  I  can  only  say  to  you — because  I  hold  it  to  be  ! 

BERNAL,  with  an  apologetic,  penitent  gesture. 

I  insult  you  with  my  curiosity  when  I  only  wanted  to 
convince  you  of  my  regret.  It  was  my  respect  for  you 
the  other  day,  that  made  me  use  a  freedom  ! 

GRACE. 
The  sense  of  that  respect  consoles  me  ! 

BERNAL 

I'm  delighted  to  hear  it ;  but  what's  to  console  me  ? 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

For  what,  Mr.  Bernal  ? 


ACT    THIRD  163 

BERNAL. 

For  seeing  Sir  Ralph  Damant  again  stand  between  us  ! 

GRACE,  after  another  instant. 

Excuse  me  if  I  don't  perceive  how  it  should  matter  to 
you  where  Sir  Ralph  Damant  stands. 

BERNAL. 

You  saw  how  it  mattered  the  other  day  ! 

GRACE,  quiet. 

I  saw  the  fact,  but  not  the  reason.     (Then  with  a  sad  smile.) 
You  ask  me,  I  think,  for  more  explanations  than  you 

give  ! 

BERNAL,  admitting  this  ;  speaking  very  kindly. 

You  must  be  generous  with  me,  for  I'm  much  troubled. 

GRACE. 
It's  because  you're  much  troubled  that  I'm  here.     (Then 

while  he  stares ;  explaining.)       I   saw    yOUr    poor    home    the  Other 

day,  and  I  heard  your  confession. 

BERNAL,  struck,  alert. 

Of  want  of  means  ? 

GRACE,  tender,  indulgent. 

My  intrusion,  my  appeal  brought  it  out. 

BERNAL. 
So  that  you're  here  for  money  ? 


164  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

I'm  here  for  money  ! 

BERNAL,  wondering,  amazed. 

For  my  relief? 

GRACE,  after  another  pause. 

Are  you  too  proud  to  accept  relief? 

BERNAL. 

If  I'm  proud  at  all,  Miss  Jesmond,  I'm  proud  of  having 
inspired  —  by  such  an  accident  —  such  a  sympathy  ! 

(After  an  instant.)  Your  charity  is  (hesitating  for  his  word  ;  then  bring- 
ing it  out  with  an  extravagance  of  warmth  in  which  there  is  just  a  shade  of  the 
irony  of  his  imperfect  credulity,  his  sense  of  strangeness)  magnificent  ! 

GRACE,  gentle. 

Such  as  it  is,  it's  all  my  motive ! 

BERNAL,  going  on. 

Still  more  magnificent  is  your  belief  in  my  cousin's 
sensibility. 

GRACE. 

You  mean  it's  extravagant?  (After  an  instant.)  It  would  be 
— if  I  hadn't  grounds  for  it. 

BERNAL,  struck. 

Grounds  ?  (Then  after  reflection.)  Shall  I  strike  you  as  the 
most  graceless  of  men  if  I  venture  to  ask  what  they  are  ? 

GRACE. 

I  can't  tell  you,  Mr.  Bernal,  what  they  are  ! 


ACT    THIRD  165 

BERNAL. 

And  yet  you  said  just  now  that  you  give  more  explana- 
tions— 

GRACE,  as  he  hesitates. 
Than  you  do  ?       (After  an  instant.)       I  was  Wrong.       (With  pathetic 

dignity.)     I  feel  that  I  don't  give  enough  ! 

BERNAL,  worried,  agitated,  almost  feverish. 

You  give  enough  to  enchant  me,  but  not  enough  to 
satisfy  !  Why  should  you  wish  to  remedy  my  preposter- 
ous predicament? 

GRACE. 
Because  I  regret  it ! 

BERNAL,  with  the  same  troubled  spirit  as  before. 

Your  "regret"  is  more  mystifying  than  the  step  for 
which  it  accounts,  and  your  good  faith  only  ministers, 
somehow,  to  the  impulse  that  makes  me  challenge  you  ! 

GRACE. 

My  ambiguity  is  my  misfortune. 

BERNAL. 

Say  rather  it's  mine  !  If  I  appealed  to  you  just  now 
kindly  to  see  me,  it  was  to  make  my  own  behaviour 
clear.  How  can  I  make  it  clear — 

GRACE,  interrupting. 

If  I  don't  make  mine  ? — You  can't ! 


166  THE    ALBUM 

Enter  Sir  RALPH  DAMANT  from  the  hall.     Re-enter  at  the  same  moment 
Lady  BASSET  from  the  right. 

BERNAL,  to  Sir  RALPH,  who  has  his  latchkey  visible  and  has  stopped  short, 
deeply  disconcerted,  on  finding  him  with  GRACE. 

I  asked  to  see  Miss  Jesmond. 

GRACE,  to  Sir  RALPH. 

I  arrived  before  Mr.  Bernal. 

LADY  BASSET,  on  the  right. 
7  arrived  after ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

And  I've  arrived  last  Of  all !  (Controlling  with  an  effort,  as  he  comes 
down,  his  discomfiture  at  MARK'S  meeting  with  GRACE,  and  taking  now  the 
line  of  a  smoothly  astute  and  diplomatic  manner  of  dealing  with  his  difficulties.) 

I've  been  detained,  but  I'm  all  the  more  pleased  to  find 
you  gathered  ! 

GRACE,  grave. 

I've  not  presumed  yoifd  care  to  find  me. 

SIR   RALPH,  urhane,  engaging,  gay. 

Then  I  must  teach  you  presumption !  I  bid  you 
welcome  to  Portland  Place. 

LADY  BASSET,  impatient  but  majestic. 

And  have  you  no  welcome  for  another  friend  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

The  warmest,  dear  lady.  I  summoned  you  to  be 
present  at  the  sittings. 

LADY  BASSET,  disappointed  at  the  inadequacy  of  this  explanation. 

I  should  still  have  been  if  you  hadn't ! 


ACT    THIRD  167 

SIR   RALPH,  imperturbable  ;  indicating  the  room  on  the  right. 
They    take    place    there.        (Then  motioning  her  to  pass  out  again.) 

Be  so  good  as  to  await  me. 

LADY  BASSET. 

While  you  dally  with  Miss  Jesmond  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  answering  the  question  but  addressing  GRACE. 

To  make  up  for  the  occasion  of  which  Mark  so  cruelly 
deprived  me  ! 

BERNAL,  gay. 

I've  made  up  a  little,  on  my  side,  for  the  loss  I  equally 
suffered  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

I  take  my  revenge  in  kind  !     (Opening  the  door  on  the  right  and 

pointing  the  way  out  to  BERNAL.)       Be    SO    good    as    tO    leave    the 

room. 

BERNAL,  troubled,  demurring. 

This  moment  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

This  moment ! 

BERNAL,  at  the  door ;  looking  at  GRACE  ;  after  an  instant. 

Good-bye  ! 

Exit  MARK  BERNAL  to  the  right. 

SIR   RALPH,  to  Lady  BASSET,  while  GRACE,  with  emotion,  nervous,  restless, 
wanders  up  to  a  window  on  the  left. 

Won't    yOU    join    him?        (Then  as  her  attitude  appears  a  refusal ;  in- 
sinuating.)     He  admires  you  ! 


168  THE    ALBUM 

LADY    BASSET,  staring;  as  if  stupefied. 

Do  you  mean  by  that  that  you  don't  ? 

SIR    RALPH,  conciliatory,  heroic. 

My  admiration's  of  a  different  strain  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

Such  as  it  is,  I'm  here  for  you  to  show  it. 

SIR  RALPH. 

I  do  show    it 1    am   Showing    it.       (Then  as  he  indicates  the  open 

door  and  other  room  again.)       By  this  privilege  ! 

LADY  BASSET. 

That  of  Mr.  Bernal's  company  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  pleadingly  argumentative. 

Doesn't  he  tell  you  what  he  thinks  of  you  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 

Every  one  does  that ! 

SIR  RALPH,  still  pleading. 

/  will — in  three  minutes  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  at  the  door;  having  looked  at  her  watch. 

I  shall  time  you  ! 

Exit  Lady  BASSET  to  the  right. 

SIR   RALPH,  having  closed  the  door  and  remaining  an  instant  at  the  right, 
while  GRACE  is  up  at  the  left. 

I  followed  you  in  vain,  and  it  was  sweet  of  you  to  come! 


ACT    THIRD  169 

GRACE,  coming  down. 

It  may  have  been   "  sweet,"  Sir  Ralph,  but  it  has  not 
been  easy  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

It  gives  me  the  chance  to  say  what  I  wanted  so  much 
to  say  ! 

GRACE,  seating  herself. 

And  it  gives  me  the  chance  to  hear  it ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

What  I  wanted  to  say  is  that  I  accept  your  proposition. 

GRACE. 
Are  you  very  sure,  first,  that  you  understand  it  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  surprised  at  her  question. 

There  was  surely  little  room  to  blink  it !      (Then  after  an 
instant.)     And  I've  taken  my  time  to  consider. 

GRACE,  very  quiet. 

I  gather  then  the  fruit  of  my  exertions. 

SIR  RALPH. 

If  your   exertions  were   extraordinary,  you  must  admit 
that  the  fruit  is  splendid  ! 

GRACE. 
There's  nothing  so  splendid  as  the  triumph  of  justice. 


170  THE    ALBUM 

SIR   RALPH,  struck,  demurring. 

Do  you  call  it  by  that  name  ? 

GRACE. 
By  what  name  do  you  call  it  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

Generosity — extravagant !  But  we  won't  quarrel  about 
the  description  ! 

GRACE. 

We  won't  quarrel  about  anything,  in  the  presence  of  the 
accomplished  fact. 

SIR   RALPH,  wincing,  momentarily  failing. 

Thafs  a  description  that,  I  confess,  does  give  me  a 
start !  (Reflecting  with  intense  gravity.)  It  brings  my  position 
home  to  me. 

GRACE. 

Exactly  where  it  should  be  brought. 

SIR  RALPH. 

I'm  a  bit  of  a  fatalist ;  it's  the  finger  of  doom  !  My 
line  of  argument  has  been  that  sooner  or  later  I  should 
feel  the  knife  at  my  throat — have  to  make  the  sacrifice  ; 
and  that  it  constitutes  after  all  the  purchase  of  my 

freedom. 

GRACE. 

When  you  have  paid  the  price  your  freedom  will  be 
perfect ! 

SIR   RALPH,  struck,  eager. 

I  may  do  as  I  like — I  may  go  my  way  ? 


ACT    THIRD  171 

GRACE. 
My  dear  Sir  Ralph,  I'll  never  speak  to  you  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  following  up  the  conception  of  this  advantage  ;  thinking. 

And  of  course,  on  that  footing,  nobody  else  will !    (More 
confident.)     Nobody  else  can  ! 

GRACE,  confirmatory. 

There'll  be  nothing  left  to  say  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

Precisely,   no  locus  standi.     (ingenuous.)     That's  the  one 
thing  that  reconciles  me. 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 
The  One  thing  ?       (Then  as  he  stares,  struck,  incipiently  alarmed  by  her 

intonation.)     No  sentiment — no  emotion  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  still  staring  ;  plainly  surprised. 

Since  you  press  me,  Madam,  none  whatever ! 

GRACE. 

The  mere  bald  concession  ? 

SIR   RALPH,   more  markedly  surprised,  even  scandalised  at  her  qualification 
of  his  sacrifice. 

Do   you   consider   it   such   a  trifle    to    "  concede "   my 
existence  ? 

GRACE,  blank. 

Your  existence  ? 


172  THE    ALBUM 

SIR  RALPH. 

Even  with  what  I  reserve  !     My  fortune,  my  position, 
my  name ! 

GRACE. 

Your  name  ?     What  have  I  to  do  with  that  ? 

SIR  RALPH,  bewildered. 

You  don't  propose  to  bear  it  ? 

GRACE,  rising. 
Heaven  forbid,   Sir    Ralph  !       (Then  lightly  and  quietly,  as  he  stares, 

stupefied.)     You  make  me  an  offer  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  with  precipitate  and  indignant  eagerness. 

Never  in  the  world  ! 

GRACE. 

Then  what  are  you  talking  about  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

Your  horrible  ultimatum  ! 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

It's  your  impression  that  I've  made  you  an  offer  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

Twice  over,  in  so  many  words  ! 

GRACE. 
Which  you've  done  me  the  honour  to  accept  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

For  the  advantage  I've  named  ! 


ACT    THIRD  173 

GRACE,  amused,  smiling  in  spite  of  her  disgust  and  dismay. 

Your  view  of  the  "  advantage  "  touches  me  !  I  did  make 
you  an  offer,  Sir  Ralph,  but  it  was  only  the  offer  of  a 
chance. 

SIR    RALPH,  vague,  anxious. 

A  chance  ? 

GRACE. 
To  make  a  restitution — to  divide  your  inheritance. 

SIR   RALPH,  staring  ;  with  his  assurance  flickering  back. 

Divide  it  with  you? 

GRACE. 
With  Mr.  Bernal.     That  was  my  "  ultimatum  "  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  dropping,  overwhelmed,  into  the  seat  from  which  GRACE 
has  risen. 

That? 

GRACE. 

I  appealed  to  you  to  give  him  his  share — the  share  he 
would  clearly  have  enjoyed  if  your  kinsman  had  lived 
another  day. 

SIR   RALPH,  with  the  same  amazed  ruefulness. 

Make  him  a  present  of  a  fortune  ? 

GRACE,   simple. 

Two  thousand  a  year. 

SIR    RALPH,  after  an  instant  during  which  he  has  risen. 

So  that  you  may  offer  to  marry  him  ? 


174  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE. 
You  exaggerate  my  impatience  to  marry. 

SIR  RALPH. 
You  exaggerate  mine  to  indulge  in  preposterous  gifts  ! 

GRACE,  after  an  instant. 

You  don't  accept  your  chance  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

You  must  permit  me  to  view  it  in  the  light  of  reason  ! 

GRACE. 

That's  exactly  what  I  appeal  to  you  to  do.  You  treated 
me  just  now  to  the  argument  of  security.  Let  me  treat 
you  to  the  same  !  Your  security  is  your  honour. 

SIR   RALPH,  after  an  instant. 

And  my  honour,  you  seem  to  imply,  is  your  sport  ? 

GRACE. 

I  daresay  I  could  have  a  game  with  it ! 

SIR   RALPH,  after  another  instant. 

With  that  little  ass  to  help  you  ? 

GRACE. 

Mr.  Ashdown  ?     He's  in  the  other  room. 

SIR   RALPH,  with  excited  derision 

Quite  the  Chamber  of  Horrors  ! 


ACT    THIRD  175 

GRACE. 
I  should  apply  that  title  to  this  one. 

SIR  RALPH,  as  she  moves  to  go. 

You  leave  me,  Miss  Jesmond  ? 

GRACE,  at  the  door  to  the  hall. 

I've  corrected  your  mistake. 

SIR   RALPH,  still  with  his  nervous  and  ironic  laughter. 

Won't  you  give  me  your  address  ? 

GRACE,  blank. 

For  what  purpose  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 
I  may  have  a  word  to  say  to  you  ! 

GRACE,  after  an  instant's  hesitation. 

If  you  have  a  word  to  say,  say  it  to  Mr.  Bernal ! 

SIR  RALPH,  smiling. 

It  may  not  do — for  Mr.  Bernal ! 

GRACE,  turning  to  the  door  again. 

Then  it  won't  do  for  me  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  as  she  has  her  hand  on  the  door ;  with  a  sudden  complete, 
quite  violent  change  of  manner  and  accent. 

Miss    Jesmond,    listen    tO    me  !       (Then  as  GRACE,  struck,  arrested 
by  this  transformation,  stops  short,  looking  at  him.)        YOU    Say    you've 


176  THE    ALBUM 

corrected  my  mistake ;  but  I  confess  I've  made  more 

than  One  !  (GRACE,  as  if,  after  a  momentary  hesitation,  under  the  influence 
of  a  puzzled  hope  that  his  oddly  altered  tone  may  denote  his  readiness  to  do  the 
justice  she  has  demanded,  comes  slowly  a  few  steps  down,  while  he  goes  on.) 

I  told  you  a  while  ago  that  if  I  stood  ready  to  marry 
you  it  was  without  sentiment,  without  emotion.  But 
those  words  were  a  wrong  to  you — they  were  a  greater 

Wrong  tO  myself.  (She  continues  to  rest  her  wondering,  expectant  eyes 
on  him,  and  he  proceeds  with  gathered  assurance.)  The  emotion, 

charming  woman,  has  come — the  sentiment  insists  on 

a  Voice.       (Then,  under  the  permission  of  her  silence,  producing  his  confident 

climax.)  I  make  you,  Miss  Jesmond,  the  proposal  that  I 
regret  you  didn't  make  me  ! 

GRACE,  after  a  moment  of  intensely  controlled  disappointment  and  horror ; 
with  the  cold  irony  of  her  stupefaction. 

Your  mistakes  are  sufficiently  strange ;  but  I  think  your 
corrections  are  stranger ! 

SIR  RALPH,  insistent,  persistent. 

You  say  that  you  offer  me  a  chance ;  but  what  is  it  com- 
pared to  the  chance  I  offer  you  ?  What  you  ask  of  me 
for  another,  I  press  on  you  for  yourself !  (Then  with  an  ex- 

asperation  rising  from  the  vision  of  the  incorruptibility  with  which  she  stands 

there.)  Do  you  measure  what  I  mean  and  what  I  possess  ? 
Can  you  reflect  on  it  and  refuse  ?  I've  guessed  your 
poverty ;  I've  sounded  your  depths.  Without  a  home, 
without  protection  in  this  cruel  city,  consider  in  what  a 

refuge  yOU  Stand  !  (Then  as  she  simply  turns  from  him  with  a  move- 
ment that  expresses  all  her  sickened  inaccessibility,  and  he  has  got  between  her 
and  the  door  to  the  hall,  more  and  more  urgent  and  imperative,  half-pleading, 
half-resentful  and  altogether  passionate.)  YOU  really  refuse  ? 


ACT    THIRD  177 

GRACE. 

To  be  bought  Off?  (With  an  almost  wild  motion  of  clearing  him  from 
her  path,  while  the  door  opens  from  the  hall  and  the  FOOTMAN  reappears : 
re-enter  the  FOOTMAN  from  the  hall.)  Let  me  gO  ! 

FOOTMAN,  announcing. 

Miss  Vanneck  ! 

Enter  MAUD  VANNECK  from  the  hall. 
SIR   RALPH,  disconcerted,  overwhelmed,  furious,  to  the  FOOTMAN. 

Who  let  her  in  ? 

MAUD,  serene. 

The  butler,  Sir  Ralph ;  I  asked  for  Lady  Basset ! 

FOOTMAN. 

Your  things  are  put  out,  sir. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Things  ?     What  things  ? 

FOOTMAN. 

To  sit  for  your  picture,  sir — the  costoom. 

SIR  RALPH. 

Damn  the  costoom  ! 

Exit  Sir  RALPH  rapidly  to  the  hall,  while  the  FOOTMAN  holds  open  the  door 
Exit  the  FOOTMAN. 

GRACE,  to  MAUD. 

You'asked  for  Lady  Basset  ? 

VOL.    II  N 


178  THE    ALBUM 

MAUD. 

To  take  me  out  again.     (After  an  instant.)     I   find  I  can't 
face  them  ! 

GRACE. 
Face  what? 

MAUD. 

The  usual  dangers. 

GRACE,  with  a  sad,  sincere  smile  and  headshake. 

They're  horrible  !     Don't  try.     (Then  after  a  moment.)     Don't 
trouble  Lady  Basset.     I'll  take  you  out. 

MAUD,  surprised. 

You,  Miss  Jesmond  ?     Where  ? 

GRACE. 

Out  of  this  house,  to  begin  with.     It's  not  a  very  nice 
place ! 

MAUD,  struck  with  her  tone  and  air ;  then  kind. 

I  see  it  has  been  horrid  somehow  for  you — and  yet  you 
have  ideas  for  others. 

GRACE. 

I've  ideas  for  Mr.  Ashdown  !     He  asked  me  to  speak 
for  him. 

MAUD. 

Is  he  here  ? 

GRACE,  turning  away  as  she  sees  BERNAL. 

Ask  Mr.  Bernal. 

Re-enter  MARK  P.KRNAL  from  the  right. 


ACT    THIRD  179 

MAUD,  joyous,  spontaneous,  to  BERNAL,  who  has  stopped  short  on  finding 
GRACE  still  in  the  room. 

Why,  Miss  Jesmond's  charming  ! 

GRACE,  facing  about  again  quickly. 

She  says  so  because  I  spoke  to  her  of  Mr.  Ashdown. 

BERNAL,  behind  whom  the  door  of  the  other  room  has  closed  ;  to  MAUD. 

He's  in  there  with  Lady  Basset. 

MAUD. 

And  what's  Lady  Basset  doing  ? 

BERNAL. 

Waiting  for  Sir  Ralph. 

MAUD,  with  striking  ingenuousness. 

How  very  vulgar ! 

GRACE,  to  BERNAL,  smiling. 

Miss  Vanneck's  not  here  for  that ! 

BERNAL,  to  MAUD. 

It  wouldn't  help  you  if  you  were  ! 

GRACE,  to  BERNAL,  urgent. 

You  must  appeal  for  your  friend. 

BERNAL,  to  GRACE. 

Your  friend  too,  Miss  Jesmond.     He  simply  adores  you. 


i8o  THE   ALBUM 

MAUD,  struck. 

Does  he  indeed  ? 

GRACE,  amused. 

Because  I  intercede  ! 

BERNAL. 

I've  interceded  too  !     (TO  MAUD.)     Didn't  I  struggle  hard 
for  him  ? 

MAUD. 

At  Vandyke  Lodge  ?     (After  an  instant.)     I've  not  forgotten 
it  ! 

GRACE,  to  MAUD. 

Let  him  struggle  for  himself ! 

BERNAL,  to  MAUD. 

Shall  I  call  him  in  ? 

MAUD,  at  the  open  door  on  the  left ;  hesitating  ;  then  to  GRACE. 

What's  beyond  that  room  ? 

GRACE,  smiling. 

A  conservatory. 

MAUD,  to  BERNAL. 

Please  call  him  ! 

Exit  MAUD  VANNECK  to  the  left.     BERNAL  opens  door  on  the  right, 
and  on  his  summons  re-enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN. 

GRACE,  to  TEDDY. 

I've  spoken  for  you  ! 

TEDDY,  eager. 

To  dear  Maud  ? 


ACT    THIRD  181 

BERNAL,  indicating  the  left. 

She's  in  the  conservatory. 

TEDDY,  at  the  door  on  the  left,  in  suspense,  his  hand  to  his  heart. 

Will  she  have  me  ? 

BERNAL. 

Go  and  see  ! 

TEDDY,  ardently,  to  GRACE. 

Benefactress  ! 

GRACE,  grave,  sad. 

Ah,  don't  call  me  that  I 

TEDDY. 

Then  angel ! 

BERNAL,   laughing. 

Keep  that  for  Miss  Vanneck ! 

TEDDY,  indicating  GRACE. 

Then  you  thank  her  ! 

Exit  TEDDY  to  the  left. 
GRACE,  smiling  sadly. 

You  shouldn't,  for  they  haven't  a  penny  ! 

BERNAL. 

What  of  that  ?     No  more  have  we  ! 

GRACE,  vague. 

"  We  "  ? 

BERNAL,  seeing  Sir  RALPH. 

It  doesn't  matter  ! 


182  THE    ALBUM 

Re-enter  Sir  RALPH  DAMANT  picturesquely  dressed  to  sit  for  his  portrait ;  a 
costume  carefully  selected  and  studied. 

SIR   RALPH,  stopping  short,  in  high  displeasure,  on  seeing  BERNAL 
reunited  to  GRACE. 

You've  come  back  ? 

BERNAL,  with  a  gesture  of  abdication,  of  frank,  final  confession. 

My    necessity    forced    me  —  I    expected   to    find    you. 

(After  an  instant.)       I  thlOW  Up  my  charge. 

SIR   RALPH,  aghast,  indicating  the  room  to  the  right. 

That  woman  ? 

BERNAL. 
That  avalanche  !     I  can't  arrest  its  course  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  dismayed,  indignant. 

You  don't  appreciate  her  ? 

BERNAL. 
I  can't  handle  her,  and  I  judged  it  right  to  notify  you. 

SIR    RALPH,  thinking  intently,  in  his  alarm. 

She's  not  amenable — ? 

BERNAL. 
To  any  argument  I  can  use  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

But  she  has  plenty  of  her  own  ! 

BERNAL. 
I  perceive  them,  but  somehow  I  resist  them  ! 


ACT    THIRD  183 

SIR   RALPH,  contending,  protesting,  insisting. 

Such  brilliant  points  ? 

BERNAL. 

She  doesn't  see  mine  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

You  told  me  she  did  ! 

BERNAL. 
It  was  what  she  first  told  me  !     But  now  she  takes  it 

all  back. 

SIR   RALPH,  in  deeper  dismay  the  more  he  thinks. 

Back? 

BERNAL. 

She  objects  to  me  ! 

SIR  RALPH. 

And  you  object  to  her  ? 

BERNAL. 

I'm  not  so  rude  as  to  tell  her  so — but  I  do  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  in  the  tone  of  indignant  injury  ;  scandalised. 

Do  you  call  such  an  objection  loyal  ? 

BERNAL,   blank. 

"  Loyal "  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

After  all  I  have  done  for  you  ! 

BERNAL. 
Pray  what  have  you  done  ? 


184  THE    ALBUM 

SIR   RALPH,  pulled  up,  embarrassed  an  instant,  by  the  question  ;  then 
indicating,  with  angry  fatuity,  the  nobleness  of  his  appearance. 

Dressed  myself — as  you  see  ! 

BERNAL,  taking  him  in,  up  and  down. 

For  your  portrait  ? 

SIR    RALPH,  exhibiting  himself. 

As  the  "  Patron  of  Art  "  ! 

BERNAL. 

My  dear  Ralph,  my  art  must  go  unpatronised  !     (with  the 

note  of  rueful  melancholy,  but  smiling.)       No  SOHg  DO  SUpper  ! 
SIR  RALPH,  outraged. 

You  won't  paint  me  ? 

BERNAL. 

Wasn't  I  to  paint  you  only  if  I  saved  you  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  with  a  wail  of  despair. 

So  I'm  lost  ? 

BERNAL,  seeing  Lady  BASSET. 

Ask  her  ladyship  ! 

Re-enter  Lady  BASSET  from  the  right. 

LADY   BASSET,  pausing  at  the  door  and  glaring  with  majestic  reproach 
and  displeasure  at  Sir  RALPH. 

I've  come  for  you  ! 


ACT    THIRD  185 

SIR   RALPH,  in  mortal  anguish. 

Come  for  me  ? 

LADY  BASSET. 
I  gave  you  three  minutes. 

SIR   RALPH,  looking  at  his  watch,  confessing  in  despair  his  transgression. 

And  I've  taken  thirty  ! 

BERNAL,  to  Lady  BASSET,  indulgently  extenuating,  explaining. 

You  see,  there's  to  be  no  portrait ! 

SIR   RALPH,  eagerly,  in  the  same  way. 

I'm  not  to  sit  to  him. 

LADY  BASSET,  staring  an  instant ;  then  formidably  indicating  the  open  door. 

Then  you're  to  sit  to  me  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  demoralised,  tragic,  looking  blankly  at  the  open  door  while  she 
points  the  way  out ;  and  then,  with  the  climax  of  despair,  appealing  supremely 
to  MARK  BERNAL. 

Help  me  ! 

BERNAL,  hesitating,  thinking  an  instant ;   then  indicating  GRACE  as,  after 
having  wandered  up  the  stage   in  impatient  suspense  during  his  dialogue 
with  Sir  RALPH,  she  now  comes  down  again. 

Help  me  ! 


SIR   RALPH,  as  if  with  the  last  terrified  lucidity  of  reflection,  the  sudden 
dawn  of  a  new  idea,  which  he  leaps  at,  making  up  his  mind,  while  his  eyes 
move  an  instant  from  GRACE  to  BERNAL  and  while  Lady  BASSET  still  stands 
in  control  of  the  open  door. 

Wait  for  me ! 

Exit  Sir  RALPH  to  the  right. 


186  THE    ALBUM 

LADY   BASSET,  to  the  others,  smiling  triumphantly. 

He'll  not  be  long  ! 

Exit  Lady  BASSET  to  the  right. 
BERNAL,  to  GRACE. 

I  bade  you  good-bye  ;  but,  thank  heaven,  you  were  kept 

for  me  ! 

GRACE. 

I  was  kept  by  my  occupations. 

BERNAL. 

The  first  of  your  occupations  now  (tender,  ardent)  must  be 
to  forgive  me  ! 

GRACE. 

For  believing  a  story  so  monstrous  ? 

BERNAL. 

I  didn't  believe  it,  but  it  puzzled  me  ;  it  puzzled  me 
because  I  cared — I  mean  because  I  loved  you  !  (Then, 

as  she  starts  at  this,  turning  away.)       I    hadn't   the  right  tO  tell  yOU 

so,  any  more  than  I  have  it  now ;  and  that  made  me 
wild,  it  made  me  mad,  it  made  things  crooked  and  dark 
to  me. 

GRACE,  very  sad. 

And  still  they're  not  straight,  not  clear  !  I've  tried  to 
serve  you,  but  I  haven't  served  you  yet. 

BERNAL,  passionate. 

You  serve  me  at  this  moment  by  letting  me   tell  you 

that  I  trust  you  ! 

GRACE. 

What  if  you  trust  me  to  little  profit  ? 


ACT    THIRD  187 

BERNAL. 

The  "profit "  is  the  joy  of  confidence  !  The  confidence 
was  there  though  I  was  troubled  ;  it  was  there  though 
I  was  mystified.  I  want  no  proof  that  you're  precious, 
for  the  only  thing  I  ask  of  you  is  to  let  me  deserve 
your  charity  ! 

GRACE. 

You  make  me  almost  want  to  have  failed — in  order  to 
have  the  right  to  listen  to  you.  You  must  never  be  able 
to  say  of  me  that  my  effort  was  half  for  myself. 

BERNAL. 

Give  up  your  "effort" — give  up  what  exposes  and 
divides  us  !  How  can  I  possibly  desire  any  boon  that 
has  made  you  cruelly  suffer  for  me  ? 

GRACE,  after  quick,  intense  reflection. 

I  haven't  cruelly  suffered  "  for  "  you  ;  but  (with  another  pause 
of  hesitation)  I  believe  I  could  suffer  with  you  ! 

BERNAL. 

You  shan't,  if  you'll  take  me  ;  I  declare  you  shall  only 
enjoy  !  You'll  teach  me  a  better  way  to  live ;  you'll 
teach  me  a  finer  way  to  work  !  (Taking  up  his  hat,  which  he  has 
put  down  on  coming  in.)  Let  us  go  forth  as  we  are — together  ! 

GRACE,  thinking,  yielding,  but  hesitating. 

And  forego  the  advantage — 

BERNAL,  as  she  pauses. 

The  advantage  ? 


i88  THE    ALBUM 

GRACE. 

Of  further  communion  with  Sir  Ralph  ! 

BERNAL. 

Has  that  Communion    been  SO  SWeet  ?       (With  a  decisive,  com- 
prehensive motion  as  of  final  and  total  rupture.)       Good-bye  tO  it  ! 

GRACE,  with  a  last  perfunctory  scruple. 

You  don't  really  want  to  know —  ? 

BERNAL,  energetically  breaking  in. 

I  don't  want  to  know  anything  !     (Laughing.)     I  revel  in 
my   ignorance   and  in    the  prospect   of  your  society ! 

(Then  as  if  to  vanquish  her  last  lingering  hesitation.)        It    was     not     for 

you  to  help  me,  dearest — it  is  for  me  to  help  you  ! 

GRACE,  thinking,  assenting,  but  looking  about  her  with  a  faint,  vague 
sigh  of  regret  for  what  she  gives  up. 

SO    fate    may    have    decreed  !        (Then  as  she  surrenders  her  hand, 
surrenders  herself  wholly.)       And  I  like  it  as  well  ! 

BERNAL,  with  a  joyous  laugh,  drawing,  pressing  her  to  his  bosom. 

I  like  it  much  better  ! 

Re-enter  TEDDY  ASHDOWN. 
TEDDY,  arrested  an  instant ;  then  as  they  quickly  separate  ;  radiant. 

Dear  Maud  has  accepted  me  ! 

BERNAL,  in  the  same  manner. 

And  Miss  Jesmond  has  accepted  me! 

Re-enter  MAUD  VANNECK  from  the  left. 


ACT    THIRD  189 

MAUD,  after  a  moment's  modest  pause  in  the  doorway  ;  demurely  to  GRACE. 

Mr.  Ashdown  will  take  me  out  ! 

GRACE,  smiling  at  her  and  accepting  BERNAL'S  arm  as  if  to  represent  the 
immediate  application  of  the  words. 

And  Mr.  Bernal  will  take  me  ! 

BERNAL,  seeing  Sir  RALPH. 

Though  Sir  Ralph  looks  dangerous  ! 

Re-enter  Sir  RALPH  from  the  right. 
SIR    RALPH,    white,  haggard,  almost  ravaged. 

I've  accepted  Lady  Basset  ! 

BERNAL,  smiling,  as  Lady  BASSET,  radiant,  reappears. 

We  all  do  the  same  ! 

Re-enter  Lady  BASSET  from  the  right. 

SIR    RALPH,  looking  with  concentrated  and  agitated  significance  at  Lady 
BASSET  and  speaking  with  intense  and  calculated  deliberation. 

You'll  do  so  with  double  relish  when  you  see  with  what 
zeal  she  joins  me — 

LADY  BASSET,  vague,  as  he  invitingly  pauses  ;  as  if 'made  uneasy  by  his 
look  and  tone. 

Joins  you —  ? 

SIR    RALPH,  encouraged  and  sustained  by  her  alarm. 

In  an  act  of  enlightened  justice. 

GRACE,  with  irrepressible  joy. 

Justice  ? 


igo  THE   ALBUM 

LADY  BASSET,  growing  darker. 

Sir  Ralph,  what  madness —  ? 

SIR   RALPH,  hopefully  exalted. 

The  madness,  my  lady,  of  making  over  to  Mark  the 
inheritance  I've  held  in  trust  for  him  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  aghast,  astounded. 

Four  thousand  a  year  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

Four  thousand  a  year  !  (To  BERNAL.)  You  would  have 
had  it ! 

BERNAL,  amazed,  bewildered. 

The  whole  property  ?     I  might  have  had  a  little  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  uplifted  by  the  assurance  of  his  success,  while  he  looks  at 
Lady  BASSET. 

You  shall  have  all !  You  have  nothing  of  your  own, 
and  I  have  enough. 

LADY  BASSET,  almost  shrieking  in  her  derision  and  dismay. 

Enough  ? 

SIR  RALPH. 

My  dear,  in  having  you  ! 

LADY  BASSET,  overwhelmed,  indignant,  with  a  gesture  of  outraged 
retractation. 

YOU  haven't  "  me  "  !  (With  the  violent  motion  of  clearing  her  path, 
throwing  up  the  whole  thing,  she  goes  rapidly  up.  Then  at  the  door  to  the  hall, 
with  concentrated  repudiation.)  Betrayer  ! 

Exit  Lady  BASSET  to  the  hall. 


ACT    THIRD  191 

BERNAL. 
My  dear  Ralph,  you're  too  splendid  ! 

GRACE,  to  BERNAL. 

Wait  till  you  get  it ! 

MAUD,  on  TEDDY'S  arm  ;  demurely,  to  Sir  RALPH. 

You'll  never  see  her  again  ! 

SIR   RALPH,  relieved,  restored,  reassured  ;  measuring,  satisfied. 

It's  cheap ! 


THE    REPROBATE 


IN  THREE  ACTS 


VOL.  II 


CHARACTERS 

MR.   BONSOR. 
PAUL  DOUBLEDAY. 
CAPTAIN  CHANTER. 
PITT  BRUNT,  M.P. 
CUBIT. 

MRS.  DOUBLEDAY. 
MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
BLANCHE  AMBER. 


ACT    FIRST 


Whitsuntide.  The  drawing-room  at  Mr.  Bonsor's  villa  at 
Hampton  Court.  Wide  double  doors,  across  the  upper  angle  on 
the  right,  open  from  the  hall  and  other  parts  of  the  house.  Half 
way  down  on  the  right  a  door  to  the  adjacent  rooms.  On  the  left, 
far  up,  at  the  other  angle,  a  wide  French  window,  open  to  the  lawn. 
Further  down  on  the  left  the  door  to  the  library.  A  table  with 
drawers  and  several  objects  upon  it  somewhat  to  the  left,  near  the 
front.  More  to  the  right  a  table  for  a  tea-tray.  To  the  right,  below 
the  lower  door,  a  tall  cabinet.  The  room  old-fashioned  but  cheerful, 
comfortable  but  slightly  severe.  Plenty  of  chintz  and  mahogany  ; 
wall-paper,  hung  with  steel-engravings,  of  1850.  An  old  bachelor's 
house  ;  the  whole  aspect  ugly. 

Enter  CUBIT  and  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  from  the  hall,  he  backing  down  a  litttle 
before  her  as  if  she  may  be  forcing  her  way.  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  smart  and 
showy,  with  hair  conspicuously  "golden." 

CUBIT. 

Certainly,    ma'am,    you    may  come    in ;    but    Captain 
Chanter's  positively  not  in  the  house. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Where  then  is  Captain  Chanter  ? 

CUBIT. 

He  may  have  gone  up  to  town. 


196  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

For  what  purpose  ? 

CUBIT. 

I  haven't  the  least  idea. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Is  there  any  one  in  the  house  who  has  an  idea  ? 

CUBIT. 

Oh  yes — lots  of  them  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  looking  at  him  a  moment. 

They  must  be  rubbish.     Any  women  ? 

CUBIT,  vague  and  slightly  shocked. 

Women,  ma'am  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Petticoats.     All  men  ? 

CUBIT,  clearer. 

Two  men  and  a  boy. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  looking  round  her,  taking  everything  in. 

What  sort  of  a  boy  ? 

CUBIT. 

In  buttons — to  do  the  knives. 


ACT    FIRST  197 

MRS.    FRESH VI LLE. 

Oh  that   sort !       They're    a    fraud  !       (Seeing  PITT  BRUNT  at 

the  open  window,  through  which  BRUNT  steps  in  from  the  lawn.)       Who's 

this  person  ? 

Enter  PITT  BRUNT. 
CUBIT,  announcing. 

Mr.  Pitt  Brunt ! 

PITT   BRUNT,  coming  down  ;  privately  to  CUBIT,  while  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE 
seats  herself  at  the  right  of  the  table  on  the  left. 

Who's  that  person  ? 

CUBIT. 
No  idea,  sir ! 

Exit  CUBIT  to  the  hall. 
MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

I'm  waiting — I'm  awfully  tired. 

PITT   BRUNT,  in  a  modified  boating-suit,  with  a  double  eyeglass,  very 
neat  and  deliberate,  and  slightly  hesitant  and  puzzled. 

A — tired  of  waiting  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Not  yet — in  your  company  !     Been  on  the  river  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  put  in  an  hour  each  day. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

/  used  to  put  in  hours — the  dear  old  river  ! 


ig8  THE    REPROBATE 

PITT  BRUNT. 
It's  hygienic — if  you're  moderate. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  ain't  moderate  !     I  never  was  ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

It's  best,  you  know,  to  be  safe. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  looking  at  him  an  instant,  while  he  smiles  com- 
placently ;  then  rising  suddenly. 

Do  you  think  you  are  1 

PITT  BRUNT,  startled  a  little,  retreating  a  step,  then  smiling  at  her  again. 

I'm  not  very  sure  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  laughing. 

If  you  were,  I'd  do  for  you  !     Are  you  staying  in  the 
}  house  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

No — are  you  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Till    I've    done    What     I've    COme    for.        (Then  abrupt,  familiar. 

What  have  you  come  for  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 
I  put  in  an  hour  each  day, 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Here  too  ?     Why,  you  must  have  a  time-table  ! 


ACT    FIRST  199 

PITT  BRUNT. 

My  life  is  thoroughly  organised. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Mine  is  deliciously  irregular. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Ah,  but  you're  not  in  the  House  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  vague. 

What  house  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

The  House  of  Commons  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Do  you  mean  you  are  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  sit  for  Blackport. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

At  your  ridiculous  age  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  with  dignity. 

My  constituents  have  never  inquired  it. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

That's  the  sort  of  people  I  like  !     Where  are  such  ducks 
to  be  found  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Smutt,  in  the  extreme  north.      I 
meet   them   there,   I   address   them,  in   a  day   or  two ; 


200  THE    REPROBATE 

but   in    the    meantime    I'm    spending   the   Whitsuntide 
recess  at  Teddington. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

And  what  are  you  doing  at  Teddington  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 
I'm  reading. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Reading  what? 

PITT  BRUNT,  after  an  hesitation 

Everything  ! 

Re-enter  CuniT  from  the  hall. 
CUBIT. 

Mr.  Bonsor  has  come  in,  sir. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

And  Miss  Amber  ? 

CUBIT. 

Not  arrived. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  to  CUBIT,  as  he  waits. 

YOU    may  gO.       (Exit  CUBIT  to  the  hall.     To  PITT  BRUNT,  as  he  takes  up 
his  hat  to  follow  him.)        You    may    not  !       (Then  as  BRUNT  puts  down 

his  hat.)     Who  in  the  world's  Miss  Amber? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Mr.  Bonsor's  niece. 


ACT    FIRST  201 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

And  who  in  the  world's  Mr.  Bonsor  ? 

PITT   BRUNT,  surprised  at  the  question. 

The  master  of  this  house.  One  of  my  strongest  sup- 
porters. He  has  interests  at  Blackport — I  look  after 
them.  I  have  interests  here — 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  interrupting. 

And  he  looks  after  them  !     Tit  for  tat  !     Is  he  married  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Not  yet. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

There's  always  time  !     What's  his  age  ? 

PITT   BRUNT,  hesitating. 

He's  getting  on  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

And  ^rQ  you  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Remarkably  well ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Remarkably  well  married? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Not  married  at  all !     I  mean  I'm  getting  on. 


202  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I'm  glad  to  hear  it.     Is  she  good-looking  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Who,  madam  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Mr.  Bonsor's  niece. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  should  use  a  still  stronger  expression. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Always  use  the  strongest  there  is  !  Is  she  one  of  your 
interests  here? 

PITT  BRUNT,  smiling. 
The  greatest ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

And  Mr.  Bonsor  looks  after  it  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

He  desires  our  union. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

"  Union  "  is  tame.     Where  is  she  to  arrive  from  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

From  the  continent,  where  she  has  spent  most  of  her 
life,  and  where — in  Germany,  six  months  ago — I  was 
so  fortunate  as  to  make  her  acquaintance. 


ACT    FIRST  203 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  to  herself. 

Germany  ?     Then  it's  not  she  !     (To  BRUNT.)     Isn't  there 
another  woman  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  with  simpering  ardour. 

There's  no  other  woman  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

For  you — I  see  !     But  for  him  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

For  whom  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  checking  herself,  reconsidering. 

Never    mind  whom  !       (As  she  looks  about  her  she  suddenly  spies,  on 
the   table   on   right,  a  roll   of  unfinished  embroidery,  on  which  she   pounces. 

Holding  it  up.)     Whose  untidiness  is  that  ? 

PITT   BRUNT,  looking  at  it  with  his  glasses. 

That  embroidery  ?     Perhaps  it's  Mrs.  Uoubleday's. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

And  who  on  earth  is  Mrs.  Doubleday? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

A  lady  in  the  house. 


MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  with  a  little  vindictive  shake  of  the  embroidery, 
which  she  clutches. 


Then  I've  got  her !     Rich  ? 


204  THE    REPROBATE 

PITT  BRUNT. 
Five  thousand  a  year. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Good-looking  ? 

PITT   BRUNT,  after  an  instant. 

I  should  use  a  still  weaker  expression. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  promptly  suggestive. 

Hideous  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  hesitating  again. 

Fat. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
And  old — horribly  old  ?     (Pressing.)     How  old  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  thinking. 
She's  getting  on. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

She   ought   to    be  ashamed   of   herself!      Where's   her 
husband  ? 

PITT   BRUNT,  grave. 

Beneath  the  sod. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  gay. 

Like  mine  !     What  then  is  she  doing  here  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Spending  a  month. 


ACT    FIRST  205 

MRS.    FRESH VILLE. 


With  a  bachelor  ? 


PITT  BRUNT. 

They  have  a  common  object. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

What  sort  of  object  ? 


A  child. 

Hers? 
His! 
Mr.  Bonsor's  ? 

PITT  BRUN7T. 
MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 
PITT  BRUNT. 
MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

PITT   BRUNT,  with  a  somewhat  scandalised  movement  of  repudiation,  j 

Mr.  Doubleday's — the  son  of  his  first  marriage.  This 
lady,  the  stepmother,  is  one  of  the  joint  guardians.  As 
Mr.  Bonsor  is  the  other,  they  have  often  to  meet. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

How  old  is  the  child  ? 

PIT!    BRUNT. 

He's  getting  on. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

You  seem  all  to  be  getting  on  ! 


206  THE    REPROBATE 

PITT  BRUNT. 
He's  about  thirty. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Then  why  the  deuce  guardians  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

It's  a  peculiar  case — he's  vicious. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Stuff — I  don't  believe  it ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

There  are  such  men. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

You  should  give  them  their  head  ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Doubleday  can't  be  trusted.      He  requires  the  iron  hand 
— and  he  knows  it ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  see — like  my  young  man  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  vague. 

Yours  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

He  requires  it — and  he  knows  it.      But  I  forgot — -you 
don't ! 


ACT    FIRST  207 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Permit  me  then  to  retire. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Send  me  the  butler  !  (Exit  PITT  BRUNT  to  the  hall.  Unfolding  the 
embroidery,  she  looks  at  it  a  moment.)  HideOUS  !  the  WOrk  of  an 

ugly   woman.       Never   mind,   it's   evidence !     (Rolling  the 

embroidery  up  with  decision,  she  thrusts  it  into  her  pocket.)         I    S66    my 

way.        No  warning a  pounce  !       (Seeing  CUBIT,  she  extracts  her 

purse  from  a  small  smart  reticule  which  she  carries  on  her  arm,  and  takes  a  gold 
coin  from  it.  Re-enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall.  Having  put  the  reticule  upon  the 
table  on  the  left  and  the  purse  into  her  pocket,  she  hands  the  coin  to  CUBIT.) 

Can  you  change  me  that  ? 

CUBIT,  with  the  sovereign,  mystified. 

I've  only  sixpence. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  taking  the  sixpence  which  CUBIT  has  produced. 

Sixpence  will  do. 

CUBIT,  still  more  mystified. 

And  the  rest  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  significant,  with  something  very  like  a  wink. 

Enjoy  the  rest ! 

CUBIT,  to  himself,  gleefully,  while  he  promptly  pockets  the  sovereign. 

Nineteen-and-six  ?     What  a  rum  tip  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

I'm  awfully  thirsty.      Is  there  any  place  near  ? 


208  THE    REPROBATE 

CUBIT. 
/  could  give  you  something — for  the  money  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

The  money's  for  something  else — the  money's  to  hold 
your  tongue. 

CUBIT. 
Hold  it  to  the  Captain  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Don't  mention  me — see  ? 

CUBIT. 

I  see.      But  who'll  hold  Mr.  Brunt's  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

I'm  already  his  secret :  I  feel  I  am  !     Good-bye. 

CUBIT. 
I  could  throw  in  a  glass  of  sherry. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
I  loathe  sherry.      I'm  coming  back. 

CUBIT. 
Let  me  show  you  the  place. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  motioning  him  back 

I  always  find  the  place  !     Don't  attract  attention  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  to  the  hall. 


ACT    FIRST  209 

CUBIT,  alone,  looking  after  her. 

It'll  be  a  near  thing  if  you  don't !  I'd  remark  her  any- 
where !  (Perceiving  her  reticule  on  the  table.)  Hullo  !  has  she 
left  me  another  SOUVenir  ?  (Taking  up  the  reticule  and  hesitating 

while  he  looks  at  it.)  Shall  I  go  after  her?  No — I'll  give  it 
to  her  when  she  comes  back.  (Sniffing  at  it.)  My  favourite 

SCent what-do-yOU-Call-'em  !       (Startled,  seeing  Mr.  BONSOR,  and 

immediately  dropping  the  reticule  on  the  table.)       Oh  ! 

Enter  Mr.  BONSOR  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 
MR.    BONSOR,  who  has  seen  his  movement. 

To  whom  does  that  article  belong  ? 

CUBIT. 

I  was  just  wondering,  sir. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Is  your  nose  your  organ  of  wonder  ?  I  seem  myself  to 
become  aware  of  the  recent  presence  of  a  female. 

CUBIT. 

A  lady  who  has  just  gone,  sir. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Gone  where  ? 

CUBIT. 

No  idea,  sir. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

What  did  she  want  ? 

CUBIT. 

She  didn't  seem  to  know  ! 

VOL.    II  P 


210  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.   BONSOR. 
To  whom  was  her  visit  presumably  addressed  ? 

CUBIT. 

Couldn't  make  out,  sir  !  (To  himself.)  Nineteen-and-six  ! 
What'll  he  go  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,   to  himself,  struck. 

To  Paul  ?     (To  CUBIT.)     Did  she  make  no  observation  ? 

CUBIT. 

She  observed  that  she'd  come  back. 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  himself. 

Is  he  at  it  again!     (To  CUBIT.)    When  may  we  expect  her  ? 

CUBIT. 
Really  can't  say,  sir ;  but  when  she  comes — 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Let  me  instantly  know.  (Looking  for  a  moment,  with  his  glasses, 
without  approaching  it,  at  the  reticule  which  CUBIT  has  restored  to  its  place  on 
the  table  on  the  left.)  Let  me  examine  that  Object.  (CUBIT  pre- 
sents him  with  the  reticule,  which,  while  CUBIT  holds  it,  he  continues,  without 
touching  it,  to  look  at  in  the  same  way.)  Ruby  velvet  ?  Osten- 

tatious. 

CUBIT. 

Slightly  scented,  sir.     Shall  I  remove  it  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Not  offensive.     You   may  leave   it.     (After  CUBIT  has  again 

placed  the  reticule  on  the  table.)       Where  is  Mrs.   Doubleday  ? 


ACT    FIRST  211 

CUBIT. 

Visiting  the  palace,  sir. 

MR.  BONSOR. 
Again  ?     She  visited  the  palace  yesterday. 

CUBIT. 

Great  historical  interest,  sir.     Often  spend  an  hour  there 
myself. 

MR.    BONSOR,  in  his  reflections. 

Not  alone,  I  suppose. 

CUBIT,  hesitating  an  instant,  smiling. 

Usually  with  a  companion,  sir. 

MR.    BONSOR,  aloof. 

I'm   not  interested  in  your  companions.     I  allude  to 
Mrs.  Doubleday. 

CUBIT. 

Beg  your  pardon,  sir.     Her  companion  would  probably 
be  the  Captain. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

I  thought  Captain  Chanter  was  to  go  to  London. 

CUBIT,  smiling. 

/  didn't,  sir.     He  was  out  with  her  yesterday. 

MR.    BONSOR,  struck,  prompt. 

Was  he  ?    (Then  dry.)     I   didn't  ask  you   to  watch  their 
movements.     Is  Mr.  Paul  with  them  ! 


212  THE    REPROBATE 

CUBIT. 

They  don't  take  him,  sir.     He  might  watch  their  move- 
ments ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  himself. 

It's  the  time  to  watch  his!     (To CUBIT.)     Where  is  Mr. 
Paul? 

CUBIT. 
In  the  library,  sir. 

MR.  BONSOR. 
Then  call  him  immediately. 

CUBIT,  without  moving. 

I  might  call  him  all  day,  sir — he  would  never  be  able 
to  come. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

What's  the  matter  with  him  ? 

CUBIT. 
He's  locked  in.     Mrs.  Doubleday  has  the  key. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Oh  yes,  I  forgot !     (Feeling  in  his  pocket.)     I  carry  duplicates. 

(Producing  a  key  and  giving  it  to  CUBIT.)        Let  him   OUt. 
CUBIT,  to  himself. 

One  would  think  he  was  a  domestic  animal ! 

Exit  CUBIT,  with  the  key,  to  the  library. 
MR.    BONSOR,  alone,  taking  up  the  reticule. 

A   mysterious   female,  with  a  meretricious  appendage  ? 


ACT    FIRST  213 

Why  not  state  her  business?  I  hate  anything  under- 
hand. (Trying  to  open  the  bag.)  Confound  the  Catch  ! 
(Opening  it.)  A  photograph  ?  (Taking  one  out  of  the  bag.)  Merd- 

ful  powers — it's  Paul !  What  fresh  connection  has  he 
formed,  with  all  our  safeguards?  And  what's  this 
written  on  the  back  ?  "  Dudley — to  his  Nina  !  "  She's 
his  Nina,  of  course,  but  why  is  he  her  Dudley  ?  Has 
he  an  alias — like  a  burglar  ?  What  dreadful  revelations  ! 
Shall  I  confront  him  with  this  ?  No,  I'll  conceal  it — 

I'll  Confer  with  my  associate.  (Slips  the  photograph  into  his  breast- 
pocket ;  thrusts  the  reticule  into  the  cabinet  on  the  right.  Enter  PAUL  DOUBLE- 
DAY,  from  the  library,  with  a  book  in  his  hand.  To  himself,  seeing  him.) 

Dudley  ! 

PAUL. 
Oh,  Mr.  Bonsor,  is  this  a  book  I  may  read  ? 

MR.   BONSOR,  with  the  took. 

The  Experience  of  Life?  Decidedly  not — it  doesn't 
sound  safe  ! 

PAUL. 
Shall  I  put  it  back  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

By  no  means.  (Looking  at  him  strangely.)  Fll  put  it  back  ! 
Have  you  perused  any  portion  of  it  ? 

PAUL. 
Not  a  word — I  waited  to  ask  you. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Then  how  have  you  been  occupied  ? 


214  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL,  melancholy. 

I  haven't  been  occupied  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  significant. 

We  must  occupy  you  ! 

PAUL. 

Do,  Mr.  Bonsor — I  so  want  to  fill  the  hours  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  suspicious. 

You  say  that  in  a  tone — 

PAUL,  conciliatory,  explanatory. 

The  tone  of  conviction,    Mr.    Bonsor !      I've  tried  to 
speak  of  it  to  Mamma,  but  Mamma  is  occupied. 

MR.  BONSOR. 

The  occupation  we  shall  propose  for  you  is  not  the  same 
as  that  which  now  engrosses  your  mamma. 

PAUL. 
Oh,  yes — I  don't  mean  that ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

It's  comparatively  legitimate — for  Mrs.  Doubleday. 

PAUL. 
YeS,    and    it    mUSt    be    SO     jolly  !        (Then  on   a  movement  of  Mr. 

BONSOR'S,  quick.)     When  it  is  legitimate  ! 


ACT    FIRST  215 

MR.  BONSOR. 

When  It  is  we  may  perhaps  concede  that !  But  there 
are  cases  in  which  it  isn't.  I  needn't  remind  you  that 
you've  forfeited — 

PAUL,  with  a  sigh. 

Oh,  I  know  what  I've  forfeited  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

I  needn't  remind  you  that  our  confidence  in  you  isn't  all 
that  we  could  wish. 

PAUL,  genuinely  meek. 

You  do  remind  me,  Mr.  Bonsor. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Occasionally,  perhaps — for  it's  indispensable. 

PAUL. 
Yes — it's  indispensable  ! 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Such  an  occasion  has  now  presented  itself.  If  I  just 
sent  for  you,  it's  to  call  your  attention  to  the  propriety 
of  another  sacrifice. 

PAUL,   pleading. 

Another,  Mr.  Bonsor? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

I  count  upon  you  to  make  it. 


2i6  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL,  pulling  himself  together. 

Well— I'll  make  it ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

You  know  our  system  —  your  mother's  and  mine. 
(Complacent.)  The  more  sacrifices  you  make,  the  easier  it 
is  to  make  'em  ! 

PAUL. 

They  come  very  easy  now,  Mr.  Bonsor. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

The  present  occasion  will  perhaps  be  something  of  a 
test. 

PAUL. 

There's  no  test,  Mr.  Bonsor,  that  I  shrink  from  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  still  morecomplacent. 

You  perceive  then  the  success  of  our  system  ! 

PAUL,  virtuous,  like  a  prize  pupil. 

It  works,  Mr.  Bonsor — in  perfection  ! 

MR.    BONSOR. 

There's  a  young  lady  about  to  arrive  here. 

PAUL. 
Yes,  Mr.  Bonsor. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

My  niece,  Miss  Amber,  who  has  been  living  abroad. 
She  has  come  to  spend  three  months  with  me  —  I've 
very  particular  views  for  her.  What  I  want  you  to 


ACT    FIRST  217 

understand  is  that  I  look  to  you  not  to  interfere  with 

them. 

PAUL. 

Tell  me  what  they  are,  Mr.   Bonsor,  and  I  will  regulate 
myself  accordingly. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

I  don't  see  my  way  to  describe  them  to  you  correctly  as 
anything  but  matrimonial. 

PAUL,  with  continued  docility. 

You  wish  me  to  marry  her  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  shocked. 

Not  for  worlds  !     I  wish  you  to  do  the  very  opposite. 

PAUL,  vague. 

The  very  opposite  ?     Make  up  to  her  without  intentions  ? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Not   make   up   to   her  at  all !       She's  guileless — she's 
fresh — she's  pure.      Let  her  remain  so  ! 

PAUL. 
You  mean  that  I'm  not  to  speak  to  her  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  stern. 

Never — till  she  speaks  to  you.     (To  himself.)     I'll  take  care 
she  doesn't ! 

PAUL,  following  closely. 

Then  I  may  answer  her  ? 


218  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.   BONSOR. 
With  extreme  reserve. 

PAUL,  as  if  learning  his  lesson. 

With    extreme    reserve.       Is    she    possessed    of — a — 
personal  attractions? 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Unfortunately. 

PAUL,  with  intense  assent. 

Unfortunately  ! 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Fortunately  you  are  not ! 

PAUL,  with  intenser  assent. 

Fortunately  ! — And  is  her  future  husband  ? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Her  future  husband   is   that   rising    young   star  of  his 
party,  Mr.  Pitt  Brunt. 

PAUL,  precipitate. 

Oh,  he's  not  beautiful ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  pointed. 

No,  but  he's  good  ! 

PAUL,  checked,  humiliated. 

Yes — that's  everything  ! 


ACT    FIRST  219 

MR.   BONSOR. 
I've  sent  him  to  the  station  to  meet  Blanche. 

PAUL,  alert,  in  spite  of  himself. 

Is  her  name  Blanche  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  severe. 

You'll  have  no  occasion  to  pronounce  it !  (Looking  at  his 
watch.)  I'm  also  expecting  your  mother's  return. 

PAUL,  somewhat  rueful. 

So  am  7,  Mr.  Bonsor  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  significant. 

She  forgets  herself! 

PAUL,  reassuring,  yet  ominous. 

Oh,  she'll  remember  me! 

MR.    BONSOR. 

I  hope  so  !  You  constitute,  in  her  absence,  a  responsi- 
bility of  which  I  feel  the  weight !  (Deliberating.)  I  don't 
quite  know  what  to  do  with  you. 

PAUL,   passive. 

Whatever  you  like,  Mr.  Bonsor  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  significant. 

There  are  many  things  to  consider. 


220  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 

Shall  I  return  to  the  library  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  dubious,  taking  up  the  book  given  him  by  PAUL  and  turning 
over  a  page  or  two. 

Not    till    I've  Weeded    it   OUt  !       (Tosses  down  the  book  as  if  with  a 
ense  of  contamination.) 

PAUL,  suggestive. 

Mamma  sometimes  keeps  me  in  her  room. 

MR.    BONSOR,  considering. 

I'm  afraid  that  ground  is  forbidden  me.      (Austere.)      I 
never  enter  your  mother's  apartment. 

PAUL. 

Mightn't  you  put  me  in  yours  ? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

That  ground  would  be  forbidden  her,  should  she  have 
occasion  to  visit  you. 

PAUL. 
She  sometimes  confines  me  in  my  own  little  room. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Your  own  little  room's  the  best  place  for  you.     I'll  ring 
for  Cubit  to  convey  you  there. 

PAUL.^ngeJic. 

Let  me  ring  !     (Rings.)     May  I  come  down  to  tea  ? 


ACT    FIRST  221 

MR.   BONSOR. 
I  don't  know  that  to-day  it  will  be  advisable. 

PAUL,  venturing  to  plead. 

I'm  uncommonly  thirsty,  Mr.  Bonsor. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

We're  acquainted  with  some  of  the  aberrations  of  yoUr 
thirst — which  it  is  one  of  the  leading  features  of  our 
system  to  keep  under  control. 

PAUL. 

Dear  Mr.  Bonsor,  tea  isn't  an  aberration  !  (Seeing  CUBIT.) 
Here  it  is  ! 


Re-enter  CUBIT  at  the  lower  door  on  the  right,  followed  by  a  footman 
with  a  tea-tray. 


CUBIT,  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

Tea,  sir. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Put    it    down.        (The  footman  deposits  the  tray  and  retires.     While  he  is 
doing  so   BLANCHE  AMBER  appears,   unperceived   by  the   others,   at  the  open 

window,  on  the  lawn.)     And  take  Mr.  Paul  to  his  room. 

Enter  BLANCHE  AMBER. 
BLANCHE,  precipitate,  to  CUBIT. 

Oh,  I  say — please  don't ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  startled,  meeting  and  embracing  her. 

Dearest  child  !     Where's  Pitt  Brunt  ? 


222  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 

I  left  him  behind — I  came  across  the  lawn.    We  walked 
from  the  station — my  maid  has  my  things. 

CUBIT,  announcing,  as  PITT  BRUNT  appears  at  the  window 

Mr.  Pitt  Brunt ! 

Re-enter  PITT  BRUNT,  from  the  lawn. 
PITT   BRUNT,  slightly  dignified  and  injured,  to  BLANCHE. 

I  should  have  been  glad  to  pursue  my  explanation. 

BLANCHE,  laughing. 

Pursue  it — but  don't  pursue  me  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  BRUNT. 

You  can  pursue  everything  here. 

BLANCHE,  who  has  been  looking  at  PAUL. 

Oh,  not  all  at  once,  please ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  cheerful. 

There'll  be  plenty  of  time  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  hopeful. 

Plenty  of  time  ! 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Delighted  to  welcome  you  at  last,  Blanche. 

BLANCHE. 

So  happy  to  arrive,  at  last,  dear  uncle,  and  to  be  already 
(looking  round  her)  so  charmed  with  your  surroundings  ! 


ACT    FIRST  223 

CUBIT,  to  Mr.  BONSOR 

Beg  your  pardon,  sir — am  I  to  remove  Mr.  Paul  ? 

BLANCHE,  smiling,  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

Won't  you  let  me  plead  for  him  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  to  PAUL. 

Oh,  how  d'ye  do,  Doubleday  ?     I  didn't  notice  you  !   ' 

PAUL,  ingenuously  delighted,  privately  to  PITT  BRUNT. 

Miss  Amber  does  ! 

BLANCHE,  privately  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

Forgive  my  rash  interference — Mr.   Brunt  has  told  me 
all  about  him. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

It  was  to  warn  you  in  time.     (To  CUBIT.)     Mr.  Paul  will 
first  have  his  tea. 

•\, 

BLANCHE,  approaching  the  tea-tray. 

And  mayn't  I  have  mine  ? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Won't   you   have,  after   your  journey,   something   more 
invigorating — a  glass  of  wine  ? 

CUBIT. 

I've    brought  wine,   Sir.       (Mr.  BONSOR  signifies  to  CUBIT  that  nothing 
more  is  wanted,  on  which  CUIIIT  goes  out  by  lower  door  on  the  right.) 

BLANCHE,   to  PAUL,  seeing  him  approach  the  tea-table. 

Will  you  give  me  a  glass  of  wine  ? 


224  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL,  at  this  darts  in  silence  to  the  decanter  and,  filling  a  glass,  hands  it  to 
BLANCHE.  While  he  is  in  the  act  of  doing  so  enter  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  from 
the  hall,  perceiving  with  visible  horror  what  is  taking  place. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  with  loud  abruptness. 

Paul! 

PAUL,  with  a  startled  jump,  letting  his  wine-glass  fall. 

Mamma  ? 


MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  to  herself,  coming  down. 

Drinking — with  a  woman  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY. 

My  niece  has  arrived  from  Germany.     (To  BLANCHE.)     My 
amiable    friend    Mrs.   Doubleday.      (Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY,  without 

shaking  hands,  greets  BLANCHE  with  a  distant  and  majestic  curtsey.) 

BLANCHE,  after  returning  her  salutation  very  much  in  the  same  way,   to 
PITT  BRUNT,  who,  having  seized  from  the  agitated  PAUL  the  decanter  and 
another  glass,  approaches  hei  obsequiously. 

Amiable  ?     I  don't  believe  it ! 

PITT   BRUNT,  pouring  out  wine. 

An  exemplary  woman. 

BLANCHE. 

I  detest  exemplary  women  ! 

PITT   BRUNT,  reprehensive. 

Oh,  Miss  Amber ! 

BLANCHE. 

And  also  exemplary  men  ! 


ACT    FIRST  225 

PITT  BRUNT. 
You  are  paradoxical !     Let  me  give  you  a  glass  of  wine ! 

BLANCHE. 
Thank  you — I've  changed  my  mind.     (Seeing  that  PAUL,  after 

his  accident  with  the  wine-glass,  has  poured  out  a  cup  of  tea.)         But    I'll 

have  a  cup  of  tea. 

PAUL,  taking  the  invitation,  darts  to  her  with  the  cup.     Enter  at  the  same 
instant  from  the  hall  Captain  CHANTER. 

MRS.   DOUBLED  AY. 

Paul! 

PAUL,  startled,  jumping  as  before,  and  all  but  letting  the  cup  drop. 

Mamma  ? 

CHANTER,  rushing  forward  and  catching  the  cup. 

Saved ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  seated  down  on  the  left. 
Then  bring  it  tO  me  !       (CHANTER  brings  her  the  tea.) 

MR.    BONSOR,  introducing. 

Captain  Chanter — Miss  Amber  ! 

BLANCHE,  after  nodding  gaily  at  CHANTER,  who  has  bowed  to  her. 

I  seem  dangerous  to  the  glass  and  china  ! 

CHANTER,  gallant,  with  his  hand  on  his  heart. 

Not  only,  I  take  it,  to  such  fragile  objects  ! 

VOL.  II  Q 


226  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Captain  ! 

CHANTER  veers  round  and  talks  to  her.  PITT  BRUNT  meantime  has  gone  back 
to  the  tea-table  and  exchanged  his  decanter  and  glass  for  a  cup  of  tea,  with 
which  he  returns  to  BLANCHE.  Mr.  BONSOR,  going  up,  has  poured  out  a 
cup  of  tea  and  administered  it,  as  it  were,  to  PAUL,  who  stands  helpless 
and  rueful. 

PITT  BRUNT,  with  the  cup,  to  BLANCHE. 

Let  me  serve  you. 

BLANCHE. 

Don't  think  me  very  capricious  if  I  change  my  mind 
again.  (To  Mr.  BONSOR.)  I  think  what  I  really  and  truly 
want  is  to  go  to  my  room. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Let  me  instantly  conduct  you. 

PITT  BRUNT,  to  BLANCHE. 

Let  me  wait  for  you  here. 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  PITT  BRUNT. 

You're  to  stay  to  dinner,  you  know. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I've  brought  my  things. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Cubit  will  show  you  where  to  dress. 

PITT   BRUNT,  at  the  door  to  the  hall   to  BLANCHE,  whose  back  is  turned. 

Auf  Wiedersehen  ! 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT. 


ACT    FIRST  227 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAV. 

Shall  I  find  you  here  in  ten  minutes  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  appealing  to  Captain  CHANTER. 

In  ten  minutes  ? 

CHANTER,  looking  at  his  watch  and  smiling  ;  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

Say  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

A  quarter  Of  an  hour.  (He  opens  the  lower  door  on  the  right  for 
BLANCHE,  who,  during  the  appeal  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY,  has  passed  round  and 
paused  an  instant  before  PAUL,  whom  she  looks  at  sympathetically  and  a  trifle 
strangely ;  a  movement,  a  passage  between  them,  observed  by  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY.) 

BLANCHE,  at  the  door,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY,  smiling. 

Excuse  me  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
Don't  mention  it  !       (Exeunt  BLANCHE  and  Mr.  BONSOR.)       Paul  ! 

PAUL,  who  has  his  eyes  fixed  musingly  on  the  door  ;  startled. 

Yes,  Mamma  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Go  to  your  room. 

PAUL. 

Mayn't  I  come  down  to  dinner  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  after  consideration. 

On  the  understanding  that  you  sit  by  me. 

CHANTER,  protesting  tenderly. 

Then,  dear  lady,  whom  shall  /  sit  by  ? 


228  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  privately,  warning. 

Hush — before  him  !     (To  PAUL.)     Go  ! 

PAUL. 
Yes,  mamma. 

Exit  PAUL,  submissive,  to  the  hall. 
MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  looking  on  the  table. 

Where  in  the  world's  my  embroidery  ? 

CHANTER,  helping  her  to  look. 

Your  embroidery  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

It  was  here — it's  gone. 

CHANTER,  gallant. 

If  I  had  seen  it  I  should  doubtless  have  purloined  it — 
treasure-trove  !     But  I  really  haven't  seen  it. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  glancing  about. 

I  should  prefer  you  to  see  it. 

CHANTER,  pleading. 

Not  just  now,  you  know — I  want  all  your  attention. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

You've  had  it  these  three  hours. 

CHANTER. 

Three  hours  were  not  enough — for  all  I  had  to  say ! 


ACT    FIRST  229 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Yet  you  spoke  with  eloquence. 

CHANTER. 

Say  indeed  with  passion  —  with  all  the  ardour  of  a 
sentiment  long  repressed,  bursting  forth  in  a  flood  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

And  I  followed  you  with  natural  embarrassment. 

CHANTER. 

With  nothing  more  natural  than  embarrassment  ?  With 
no  indulgence  for  my  faults,  with  no  encouragement  for 
my  hopes  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

I  must  consider — I  must  consult. 

CHANTER. 

Consult  with  me!  It's  just  for  that  I  offer  myself! 
Didn't  you  tell  me,  moreover,  that  you  would  answer 
me  in  this  place  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

I've  immense  responsibilities. 

CHANTER. 

It's  for  the  way  you  discharge  them  that  I  revere  you. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

They've  quite  worn  me  out.  What's  left  is — what  you 
see. 


230  THE    REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 

What  I  see  is  the  most  charming  creature  in  England — 
a  woman  the  picture  of  whose  rich  maturity  is  but  the 
voluminous  record  of  her  extraordinary  virtue. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

I  believe  I've  done  my  duty — but  the  burden  has  been 
heavy  indeed. 

CHANTER. 
Let  me  take  it  on  my  shoulders  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Wait  till  you  know  what  it  has  been  in  the  past,  to 
judge  what  it  may  be  in  the  future. 

CHANTER,  smiling. 

In  the  future  we  shall  be  two. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Say,  alas,  we  shall  be  three ! 

CHANTER. 

Oh,  if  you  count  that  way  we  shall  be  four.  We 
mustn't  forget  dear  Bonsor. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Never — he  has  been  everything  to  me. 

CHANTER,  dubious. 

Everything  ? 


ACT    FIRST  231 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

In  my  interminable  martyrdom. 

CHANTER. 

He'll  always  be  at  his  post.  There's  no  fear  of  his  ever 
marrying  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

There  never  was.     He's  impervious  to  female  charms. 

CHANTER,  smiling. 

That  makes  one  more  comfortable. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Oh,  I  haven't  thought  of  conquest — I've  thought  only 
of  my  daily  round.  Mr.  Bonsor  will  accuse  me  of 
deserting  him. 

CHANTER,  argumentative,  cogent. 

You  reinforce  him  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

I  certainly  shouldn't  look  at  you  unless  I  thought  you 
were  good. 

CHANTER,  self-complacent. 

I  do  try  to  be  good.     The  best  of  us  can  only  try. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

And  not  all  who  try  succeed.     You  do. 

CHANTER,  simpering. 

Very  kind  of  you  to  have  noticed  it. 


232  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

That's  why  I  shrink  from  telling  you  everything. 

CHANTER. 
To  the  pure  all  things  are  pure  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

So  I've  had  often  to  say  to  myself — in  the  atmosphere 
of  Paul's  propensities. 

CHANTER. 
It  has  left  you  unspotted. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  anxious. 

Will  it  leave  you  so  ?     That's  the  question  that  haunts 
me  now. 

CHANTER. 

Just  try  me  and  see  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

You  know,  then,  in  a  general  way,  the  task  I  accepted 
on  the  lamented  death  of  Mr.  Doubleday. 

CHANTER. 

To  watch  over  the  product  of  his  earlier  union.     You 
may  be  said  to  have  watched. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Night  and  day — it  was  a  sacred  trust.      His  earlier  union 
had  been  a  blunder. 


ACT    FIRST  233 

CHANTER. 

He  didn't  know  you. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

He  couldn't.     I  was  scarcely  born. 

CHANTER. 

If  you  had  been  you'd  have  been  saved — 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

This   crushing   legacy?      It's  not   improbable.      But   I 
came  too  late. 

CHANTER. 

Not  too  late  to  save  Paul. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Have  I  saved  him  ?     That  remains  to  be  seen  !     His  / 
mother,  alas,  was — indelicate  ! 

CHANTER. 

There  are  such  women  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

She  was  a  person  of  some  appearance;  but  she  was  bold. 

CHANTER. 

Yet  not  unattractive  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

There  were  persons  who  thought  so ;  but  don't  ask  for 
details. 


234  THE    REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 

I  know  you  well  enough  to  know  it  would  be  useless. 
But  even  without  them  I  can  judge  of  the  blood  that 
flows  in  Paul's  veins. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Heredity,  heredity  !  My  husband's  favourite  expression. 
He  saw  it  bear  dreadful  fruit. 

CHANTER. 
From  the  child's  earliest  years  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Almost  in  the  cradle.  Fortunately  he  was  on  the  look- 
out. 

CHANTER,  impulsive. 

Poor  old  chap  !     (Then  prompt.)     I  mean  Paul ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

It's  indeed  his  misfortune  even  more  than  his  fault. 
But  it  was  to  the  advantage  of  every  one  when  the  fatal 
fountain  of  such  dangers  at  last  ceased  to  flow.  My 
predecessor  succumbed — to  the  last  penalties  of  im- 
propriety ;  and  Mr.  Doubleday,  after  a  considerable 
interval,  did  what  he  could  to  repair  his  original  error. 

CHANTER. 

He  married  a  faultless  being. 


ACT    FIRST  235 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

That's  what  he  was  so  good  as  to  pronounce  me.  Un- 
happily his  compensation  was  not  so  complete  as  I  could 
have  wished.  I  presented  him  with  a  second  son,  who, 
alas,  didn't  live. 

CHANTER. 
If  he  had,  he  too  would  have  been  faultless. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Heredity  again  !  It  was  then  that  we  looked  in  the 
face — that  we  sadly  but  heroically  accepted — our  re- 
sponsibilities to  our  little  incumbrance  :  not  with  the 
vain  hope  of  making  him  what  his  brother  would  have 
been,  but  with  that  of  repressing  his  inclinations. 

CHANTER. 
And  in  some  degree  you  succeeded  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Till  his  twentieth  year.     Then  they  burst  forth. 

CHANTER,  pressing. 

What  did  he  do  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  hesitating,  scrupulous. 

Can  I  safely  tell  you  ? 

CHANTER. 

To  the  pure  all  things  are  pure  ! 


236  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Suppose  I  should  communicate  a  taint  ? 

CHANTER. 

I  must  get  accustomed  to  my  danger. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

One  does.     Paul  disappeared. 

CHANTER. 
How  did  he  manage  it  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

By  the  assistance  of  another  person. 

CHANTER. 
What  description  of  person  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

The  lowest  description.     A  singer,  from  the  "Waterloo." 

CHANTER. 

The  Waterloo  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

The  name  of  a  popular  music-hall.  You  don't  know 
such  things — but  I've  had  to  learn  them  !  Her  name 
was  Nina. 

CHANTER,  startled. 

Nina? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Did  you  ever  see  her  ? 


ACT    FIRST  237 

CHANTER. 
Dear  me,  no  !     (To  himself.)     Nina  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
They  went  to  Paris. 

CHANTER,  impulsive,  inadvertent. 

That's  the  best  place  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  surprised. 

What  do  you  know  about  it  ? 

CHANTER,  on  his  guard. 

One  can't  help  hearing. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

/  can't,  but  you  should  !  We  pursued  him,  we  had  a 
hunt !  and,  after  unspeakable  anxieties  and  incredible 
efforts,  we  finally  ran  him  to  earth. 

CHANTER  with  increasing  interest. 

Where  was  he  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

In  sumptuous  apartments — steeped  to  the  lips  in  vice. 
He  had  given  the  rein  to  his  passions. 

CHANTER,  breathless. 

All  of  them  ? 


238  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Without  exception.     He  had  changed  his  name,  he  had 
waxed  his  moustache,  he  had  overdrawn  his  account. 

CHANTER. 
Then  you  arrived  just  in  time. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

To  take  him  home.     We  took  him. 
CHANTER. 

Did  he  kick? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

He  was  prostrate,  he  couldn't  deny  it. 

CHANTER. 
No,  poor  fellow,  he  does  own  up ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Our  only  mercy.     He  sees  himself  as  he  is.     Well  he 
may,  when  he  killed  his  father. 

CHANTER,  startled. 

Do  you  really  mean —  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

I  mean  that  my  husband  died  of  the  scandal.     But  in 
his  last  hours  he  cut  me  out  my  work. 

CHANTER. 

To  keep  hold  of  Paul  ? 


ACT    FIRST  239 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

To  prevent  a  recurrence. 

CHANTER. 

And  you've  prevented  it ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

With  the  help  of  Mr.  Bonsor,  whom,  as  my  husband's 
oldest  and  dearest  friend,  he  appointed,  as  it  were,  my 
joint-supervisor.  A  childless  widow  with  an  ample  pro- 
vision, I  had  command  of  my  time,  and  an  equally  child- 
less bachelor  with  an  equally  adequate  fortune,  Mr. 
Bonsor  had  command  of  his.  We've  given  it  all  to  our 
work,  we've  had  no  other  life. 

CHANTER. 
It's  time  to  have  another  now. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Sometimes — when  I  falter — I  think  so. 

CHANTER. 

You've  done  so  much. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

We've  reduced  it  to  a  science.  To  act  on  the  slightest 
symptom. 

CHANTER. 

To  cry  "  Fire  ! "  on  the  first  puff  of  smoke  ! 


24o  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

If  we  so  much  as  sniff  it,  we  turn  on  the  hose.  We 
flood  the  whole  place. 

CHANTER. 
So  that  Paul  lives,  as  it  were,  under  water. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

It  has  taught  him  to  swim,  it  has  made  him  amphibious. 
We  organise  his  hours ;  we  regulate  his  thoughts ;  we 
control  his  imagination.  We're  intensely  particular,  for 
instance,  about  his  reading.  Nothing  that  treats  of  the 

passions. 

CHANTER. 
That  cuts  it  down  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

We  cut  it  down.  We  cut  everything  down.  We  allow 
him  no  pocket-money. 

CHANTER. 
None  at  all  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
Sixpence  a  day. 

CHANTER. 

You  can't  be  very  bad  on  that ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

You  can  be  very  good  !  He  gives  it  to  the  poor.  We 
allow  him  no  tobacco,  no  wine,  and  no  female  ac- 
quaintance. 


ACT    FIRST  241 

CHANTER. 

What  then  do  you  allow  him  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Nothing.  To  such  a  nature  everything's  an  opportunity. 
He  reports  himself  at  fixed  hours,  and,  as  you  know,  I 
rarely  leave  his  side. 

CHANTER. 

Yes,  I  had  a  job  to  get  you  off. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

I  locked  him  up. 

CHANTER. 

But  he  got  out. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Mr.  Bonsor  must  have  taken  the  responsibility.  Four 
times  a  year  we  spend  a  month  here — for  Mr.  Bonsor  to 
do  his  part. 

CHANTER. 
He  seems  to  do  it  very  well. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  dubious. 

Mr.  Bonsor  requires  to  be  kept  up.  He  shouldn't  have 
invited  that  girl. 

CHANTER. 

Oh,  I'll  look  after  her  ! 

VOL.   II  R 


242  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Don't  take  the  trouble,  /'//  look  after  her !  Now  you 
see  my  life. 

CHANTER. 

To  see  it  is  to  admire  it ;  but  there's  one  thing  I  don't 
understand  !  Paul's  healthy,  hearty,  independent — 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
He's  still  an  infant. 

CHANTER. 
An  infant  of  thirty  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

By  the  terms  of  his  father's  will.  He  doesn't  come  of 
age  till  he's  forty ;  unless  before  that,  in  the  exercise  of 
our  discretion,  if  it  seems  to  us  finally  safe,  we  anticipate 
a  little,  we  put  him  in  possession. 

CHANTER. 
He  could  break  such  a  will  in  an  hour ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

It  would  never  occur  to  him — he  takes  our  view. 

CHANTER. 
Very  obliging  of  him  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

G[  do  him  justice — he  repents.  He's  afraid  of  his 
passions. 


ACT    FIRST  243 

CHANTER,  as  if  with  the  deliberate  resolve  to  face,  courageously,  consider- 
able exposure. 

Well,  I  ain't ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  anxious,  ominous. 

Are  you  sure  they're  not  contagious  ? 

CHANTER. 
I'll  set  him  the  example  of  mine. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Yours  ? 

CHANTER. 
I've  only  one — it's  for  you  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

You're  almost  irresistible  —  but  think  it  well  over ! 
(Seeing  Mr.  BONSOR.)  Here's  Mr.  Bonsor,  for  one  of  our 
regular  councils,  which  we  never  postpone.  (Re-enter  Mr. 

BONSOR  from  the  lower  door  on  the  right.     Waving  Captain  CHANTER  toward 

the  library.)     Think  it  over  and  over  ! 

CHANTER,  at  the  door  of  the  library. 

Coquette  ! 

Exit  Captain  CHANTER. 

MR.  BONSOR. 
On  what  are  you  inviting  him  so  peculiarly  to  brood  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

My  peculiar  position. 


244  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.  BONSOR. 
What  has  he  got  to  do  with  it  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  modest. 

That  he  must  confide  to  you  himself. 

MR.  BONSOR. 
Mrs.  Doubleday,  you've  a  bad  conscience  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  with  spirit. 

Not  worse  than  you  ought  to  have  ! 

MR.  BONSOR. 

I'm  not  straying  into  languid  by-paths — I'm  not  thinking 
of  a  sacrifice  to  Hymen. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY.    . 
Of  marriage  ?    You  think  of  nothing  else  but  that  girl's  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Well,  if  I'm  a  victim  of  duty,  I'm  also  Blanche's  uncle. 

MRS.  DOUBLEDAY. 
And  if  I'm  a  victim  of  duty,  I'm  also —    (Checking  herself 

as  if  from  delicacy.) 

MR.  BONSOR. 
Not  the  Captain's  aunt — though  you  might  be  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

There's  something  you  might  be,  Mr.  Bonsor :   a  little 
more  correct  in  your  figures  ! 


ACT    FIRST  245 

MR.  BONSOR. 

This  is  not  a  time  to  recriminate — it's  a  time  for  har- 
monious   action.       (Taking  the  photograph  from  his  pocket.)       Look 

at  that ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  with  the  photograph. 

Paul! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Dudley ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  looking  at  the  back. 

Nina ! 

MR.  BONSOR. 

She's  here ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  horrified. 

Here? 

MR.  BONSOR. 
Come  back  for  him  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
After  all  these  years  ? 

MR.  BONSOR. 

They've  been  wasted  !     She  was  here  an  hour  ago — she 
may  return  at  any  moment. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
Prevent  her — head  her  off! 

MR.  BONSOR. 
Shall  I  see  her  alone  ? 


246  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   DOUBLED  AY,  dubious. 
No,  that  won't  do  !     /'//  see  her  ! 

MR.  BONSOR. 
Such  a  person  ?     It's  indecorous.     /'//  see  her  ! 

Exit  Mr.  BONSOR  rapidly  to  the  hall. 
MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  with  the  photograph  in  her  hand. 

He's    too    proper    by    half;    he    needn't    accuse    me! 

(Tosses  the  photograph  on  the  table  and  goes  quickly  to  the  door  of  the  library, 
where  she  calls.)  Captain  !  (Then  as  CHANTER  reappears :  re-enter 
Captain  CHANTER.)  She's  Come  back  ! 

CHANTER. 

Who's  come  back  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
Nina! 

CHANTER,  bounding  in. 

Nina? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

We  must  double  the  guard  ! 

CHANTER,  to  himself,  excited,  alarmed. 

Heavens  !  if  it's  my  Nina  ?  (To  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY.)  Where 
is  she  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Mr.  Bonsor's  gone  to  look. 

CHANTER,  nervous,  starting  to  go  up. 

/'//  go  to  look  ! 


ACT    FIRST  247 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  commanding. 
Captain  !       (As  CHANTER  comes  down  again.)       You'll    Stay    here. 

(indicating  the  table.)     There's  his  photograph. 

CHANTER,  taking  the  photograph. 
And  Where's  hers  ?       (Tosses  the  photograph  back.) 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  struck. 

Why  should  you  want  it  ? 

CHANTER,  rueful. 
True — when  we  have  the  reality  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

I'll  turn  the  key  in  Paul's  door  ! 

CHANTER,  looking  at  his  watch. 

You  must  dress  for  dinner. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
His    room    is    next    tO    mine.       (Then  with  sudden  seductiveness.) 

Now  do  you  want  me  ? 

CHANTER,  ardent. 

More  than  ever,  beloved  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  giving  him  her  hand  to  kiss. 

Then  take  me  ! 


CHANTER  seizes  it  and  kisses  it  with  an  air  of  rapture,  on  which  Mrs.  DOUBLE- 
DAY  snatches  it  away  and  goes  out  hastily  to  the  hall.  Re-enter  CUBIT  by 
the  lower  door  on  the  right. 


248  THE    REPROBATE 

CUBIT. 
I've  put  out  the  embroidered  waistcoat,  sir. 

CHANTER,  to  himself,  agitated. 

Embroidered  by  Nina's  hand  ! 

Exit  Captain  CHANTER  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 
CUBIT,  alone. 

Does  he  know  she  was  here  ?  has  he  seen  what  she  left  ? 

Where   is    that    elegant    Object  ?      (Seeing  BLANCHE  AMBER  at  the 
window.)       Jfere's  an  elegant  Object  !       (Re-enter  BLANCHE,  dressed 

for  dinner,  from  the  lawn.)     Quite  comfortable  in  your  room, 
Miss? 

BLANCHE. 

Perfectly,  thank  you  ! 

CUBIT,  looking  at  his  watch. 

Dinner  in  ten  minutes. 

BLANCHE. 

I'm  quite  ready.      (Exit  CUBIT  to  the  hail.)     What  sociable 
servants  !     (At  the  table  on  the  left.)     But  what  dreary  books  ! 

(Taking  up  one.)       The    Experience     Of  Life  ?       (Turning  it  over.) 

Improving  !    (Flinging  it  down.)    I  hate  improvement !     The 

USUal    photographs  ?       (Taking  up  the  photograph  of  PAUL.)       Ah, 

no,  not  quite  !  Poor  Mr.  Paul — in  all  his  impropriety  ! 
What  a  history  !  He  is  handsome  !  (Turning  over  the  photo- 
|  graph.)  But  why  "  Dudley "  ?  Some  wild  pet  name ! 
How  romantic  !  And  who's  "  Nina  "  ?  (Musing  while  she 
looks  again  at  PAUL'S  image.)  Some  great  lady,  perhaps,  whose 
head  he  has  turned — her  pet  name  !  Is  she  handsome  ? 


ACT    FIRST  249 

(With  her  eyes  for  a  moment  on  the  picture.)  I  hope  MOt  !  (Seeing 
PAUL,  who  has  appeared  at  the  window,  she  is  so  startled  that,  as  he  comes  in 
and  down,  she  slips  the  photograph,  to  prevent  his  seeing  it,  precipitately,  in- 
stinctively into  her  pocket.  Enter  PAUL  DOUBLEDAY  from  the  lawn  ;  shyly, 
hesitatingly,  tentatively,  as  if  his  pretext  has  suddenly  failed  him.  He  is  not 
dressed  for  dinner.  He  comes  down,  however,  with  a  visible  mixture  of  impetu- 
osity and  caution,  which  gives  him  an  odd  air  that  makes  BLANCHE  appear  to 
wonder,  with  sudden  amusement,  what  is  the  matter  with  him.)  Are  yOU 

looking  for  anything  ? 

PAUL,  panting  a  little. 

No,  thank  you  ! — I  mean  I  am! 

BLANCHE. 
Anything  that  was  on  that  table  ? 

PAUL,  looking  vaguely  and  as  if  a  little  surprised. 
Nothing  that  Was  On  that  table.      (Seeing  The  Experience  of  Life.) 

Not  that  book — I  mayn't  touch  it. 

BLANCHE. 
The  Experience  of  Life  ?     Don't — it's  dreadfully  slow  ! 

PAUL,  surprised. 

It's  too  fast  for  me  !     Have  you  any  books  ? 

BLANCHE,  thinking. 

Any  books  ? 

PAUL. 
Any  safe  ones.     They're  all  impossible  here. 

BLANCHE. 
Impossibly  dull  ? 


250  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
Impossibly  lively  !     They  excite  a  train  of  thought. 

BLANCHE. 
In  this  good  house — my  uncle's  ? 

PAUL. 

I  mean  for  me.     But  I'm  not  like  others — I'm  so  easily 
upset ! 

BLANCHE,  looking  at  him  an  Instant  with  compassionate  assent  and  interest. 

Ah,  yes — I  know  ! 

PAUL,  struck. 

You  know  already  ? 

BLANCHE. 
My  uncle  has  mentioned  it. 

PAUL,  with  a  sigh  of  resignation. 

Yes,  he  always  mentions  it ! 

BLANCHE. 
And  Mr.  Pitt  Brunt  had  hinted — 

PAUL,  with  a  flash  of  spirit. 

Mr.  Pitt  Brunt  ?     I'd  thank  him  not  to  hint ! 

BLANCHE. 

He   spoke   of  it   kindly — he's   sorry   for  you.       I've   a 
charming  book  upstairs — a  railway  novel. 


ACT    FIRST  251 

PAUL,  with  a  sigh  of  renunciation. 

Ah,  railway  novels  won't  do  !     Quite  forbidden  ! 

BLANCHE,  with  the  same  compassion. 

They  do  keep  you  short ! 

PAUL,  making  every  concession. 

They  have  to,  you  see.     (After  an  instant.)     My  propensities, 
you  know. 

BLANCHE,  grave,  impressed. 

Are  they  so  awfully  marked  ? 

PAUL. 
With  big  black  numbers — one,  two,  three  ! 

BLANCHE,  wondering 

Three? 

PAUL. 

Oh,  there  are  more  than  that !     But  don't  ask  me  to 
count. 

BLANCHE. 

Not  for  the  WOrld.       (Then  after  an  instant,  smiling.)  T 'II  COUnt  ! 

PAUL. 

As  you  see  them  appear  ?     You'll  get  tired  ! 

BLANCHE. 
They  don't  appear — it  seems  to  me — in  your  appear- 


252  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 

Ah,  the  very  worst  of  them  is  my  duplicity  !  But  if  you 
know  I'm  not  naturally  good,  you  must  also  know  that  I 
at  least  struggle  to  be. 

BLANCHE. 
Why,  I  do  that  myself ! 

PAUL. 

Yes,  but  you  don't  fall.  I  invariably  do.  I  did  just 
now,  at  my  window. 

BLANCHE,  laughing. 
You  don't  mean  you  fell  out  of  it ! 

PAUL. 

That  would  have  hurt  me  less.  No.  I  looked  at  you — 
I  looked  at  you  in  the  garden. 

BLANCHE. 
Oh  yes,  I  went  down  there — I  had  finished  dressing. 

PAUL, 
/hadn't — but  I  unblushingly  gazed  at  you. 

BLANCHE. 

I  didn't  see  you  —  I  was  admiring  the  garden.  It's  very 
lovely. 

PAUL,  explosive. 

Never  so  lovely  as  with  you  in  it ! 


ACT    FIRST  253 

BLANCHE. 


Oh,  Mr.  Doubleday  ! 


PAUL. 

See  how  bad  I  am !     After  I  had  stared  a  few  moments 
I  came  straight  down — I  followed  you  in  here. 

BLANCHE. 
But  how  does  that  "  hurt "  you  ? 

PAUL. 
It  excites  a  train  of  thought. 

BLANCHE,  laughing. 
Like  the  railway  novels  ?     Thank  you  ! 

PAUL. 
Mr.  Bonsor  gave  me  a  tremendous  caution. 

BLANCHE. 
So  he  did  me  ! 

PAUL. 

And  I  gave  him  a  tremendous  pledge. 
BLANCHE. 

Well,  I  didn't ! 

PAUL. 
Oh,  you're  free — because  you're  good ! 

BLANCHE. 
It's  better  to  have  passions  and  control  them. 


254  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
That's  just  what  I  didn't  do — when  I  came  down  here ! 

BLANCHE,  after  an  instant. 

Was  it  a  passion  that  brought  you  ? 

PAUL. 

I  don't  know  what  to  call  it,  Miss  Amber.  It  was  an 
emotion  not  to  be  controlled  !  See,  I'm  getting  worse  ! 

BLANCHE,  smiling. 
You  must  pull  up — you  must  recover  yourself ! 

PAUL. 

I  shall  try  to  do  so  presently ;  but,  before  I  begin,  let 
me  say  this  one  thing,  which  was  really,  I  think,  the 
idea  that  made  me  break  my  vow  !  I  want  you  to 
understand  my  reserve. 

BLANCHE,  smiling. 

I  don't  see  your  reserve,  Mr.  Doubleday  ! 

PAUL,  quickly,  reassuring. 

You  will  in  a  moment !  Then  please  remember  this, 
that  if  I  don't  speak  to  you  it's  because  I'm  forbidden, 
and  if  I  don't  look  at  you,  it's  because  I'm  afraid. 

BLANCHE. 
What  are  you  afraid  of? 


PAUL. 


I'm  afraid  of  myself ! 


ACT    FIRST        t  255 

BLANCHE,  impressed,  taking  it  very  seriously. 

You  live,  then,  in  such  terror  ? 

PAUL. 

Not  quite  in  terror,  perhaps,  but  in  very  grave  anxiety. 
I  never  know  what  I  may  do  next ! 

BLANCHE,  smiling. 

You  frighten  me  a  little  ! 

PAUL. 

Oh,  now  that  I've  explained,  I  shall  again  put  on  the 
mask ! 

BLANCHE,  sighing. 

The  tragic  mask  ! 

PAUL. 

Not  even  that :  the  expressionless  ! 

BLANCHE. 
Well,  if  you  mayn't  express,  /  may  ! 

PAUL,  a  little  ironic. 

Mustn't  you  first  ask  Pitt  Brunt  ? 

BLANCHE. 
Never  !     He  has  no  passions. 


PAUL. 
Yes,  he  has  an  easy  life  of  it. 


256  .        THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 

He  talked  to  me  just  now  about  the  Bill  of  '86.  I 
attach  no  importance  to  the  Bill  of  '86  ! 

PAUL,  vague. 

You  think  it  didn't  go  far  enough  ? 

BLANCHE. 

Mr.  Brunt  says  it  went  too  far  ! 

PAUL. 

He  always  thinks  everything 'does.  That  is  doubtless 
the  danger ! 

BLANCHE,  sympathetic. 

It's  the  danger  that  makes  the  hero ! 

PAUL. 
Oh,  Pm  not  a  hero  !     I'm  too  often  beaten  ! 

BLANCHE,  with  pity  and  curiosity. 

The  enemy's  so  strong  ? 

PAUL. 
Overwhelming,  Miss  Amber ! 

BLANCHE. 

It  makes  your  problem  wonderfully  interesting — your 
situation  intensely  dramatic.  I  should  like  immensely 
to  help  you  ! 

PAUL. 
How  can  you  ? 


ACT    FIRST  257 

BLANCHE. 
By  fighting  at  your  side. 

PAUL. 

In  the  thick  of  the  fray  ?     You'd  be  scandalised  ! 

BLANCHE. 

Ah,   not  so   easily  !     I  can  understand  temptation — I 
can  allow  for  it ! 

PAUL. 

What  do  you  know  about  it  ? 

BLANCHE,  after  an  instant,  quite  exalted. 

I've  felt  it ! 

PAUL. 

But  always  resisted  ! 

BLANCHE,  after  another  hesitation,  in  the  same  way. 

Not  always  ! 

PAUL,  with  vehemence. 

Ah,  don't  undermine  me  ! 

BLANCHE. 
Not  for  the  world — but  I  must  look  the  enemy  in  the 

face  !       (Seeing  PITT  BRUNT.)      Silence  ! 


Re-enter  PITT  BRUNT  from  the  hall  and  stands  looking  an  instant  from 
BLANCHE  to  PAUL. 


PITT  BRUNT,  to  PAUL. 

You're  not  dressed  for  dinner?     (As  if  with  the  habit  of  setting 

superior  exa,mple.'       I  am  ! 

VOL.   II  S 


258  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
Oh,  you're  good  !     But  I'll  dress  now. 


Exit  PAUL  to  the  hall. 


BLANCHE,  with  slight  irony,  to  PITT  BRUNT. 

Yes — you're  faultless  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  much  gratified. 

Delighted  to  hear  it  from  you,  Miss  Amber  ! 

BLANCHE. 

YOU  Wouldn't  be  if  yOU  knew (Pauses,  as  she  turns  away,  with 

a  vague  shrug.) 

PITT  BRUNT. 

If  I  knew  what  ? 

BLANCHE. 
That  I  can  enter  into — every  aberration  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  shocked. 

Every  one  ? 

BLANCHE,  reconsidering. 

Well,  most !     (Pointing  at  the  door  on  the  left.)     What's  in  there  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

The  library. 

BLANCHE. 

I'll  look  at  the  books. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

They're  perfectly  unobjectionable. 


ACT    FIRST  259 

BLANCHE. 
So  much  the  worse  ! 

Exit  BLANCHE  to  the  library. 
PITT  BRUNT. 

Awfully  paradoxical,  but  awfully  charming  ! 

Re-enter,  from  the  hall,  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  accompanied  by  CUBIT. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  to  CUBIT. 

Don't   announce    me gO   away  !       (CUBIT  bows  obsequiously  and 

exit  to  the  hall.    To  BRUNT,  familiarly.)       Dinner-time,   eh  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  surprised. 

Do  you  dine  with  us  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

No,  but  I  suppose  he  does,  doesn't  he  ? 

PITT   BRUNT,  freshly  mystified. 

Again,  madam,  I'm  in  doubt — 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

No  matter — I  ain't ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

You're  very  mysterious,  but  it's  attractive  !    Whoever  the 
gentleman  is,  he's  dressing. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  looking  about  her  for  her  reticule. 

/'//  dress  him  !     Where's  my  bag  ? 


26o  THE    REPROBATE 

PITT  BRUNT. 
Your  bag  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  forgot  it  here — it  contains  treasures.    Please  produce  it. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Dear  madam,  how  shall  I  produce  it  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

By  finding  it.      I  must  have  it.      Look  for  it. 

PITT  BRUNT,  glancing  about. 

I  am  looking ;  I  don't  see  it ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Look  more.     Go  and  ask  the  butler. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  usually  ring — for  a  servant. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

/  don't— I  pounce.     Try  pouncing. 

PITT  BRUNT,  amused. 

I  often  try  it  in  the  House  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Then  "go  for  him  " — there's  a  dear  ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Oh,  if  you  put  it  that  way —  ! 


ACT    FIRST  261 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  smiling. 

I'll  put  it  any  way  you  like  ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

You're  more  and  more  mysterious  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Not  when  you  know  me  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  after  an  instant. 

I  should  be  glad  to  make  time  to  know  you. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  gay. 

Naughty  man  !  what  would  the  young  lady  say  ?  (Then  as 
he  protests.)  First  see  about  my  bag. 

PITT  BRUNT,  gratified. 

I'll  see  about  it. 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT  to  the  hall. 
MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  alone. 

The  member  for  Blackport  ?  There's  more  in  him  than 
meets  the  eye  !  (Then  in  another  tone.)  They  assemble  here 
for  dinner  ?  Then  for  my  gentleman  !  (As  she  sees  CHANTER.) 
As  large  as  life — in  my  old  waistcoat ! 


Re-enter  Captain  CHANTER  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right ;  stopping  short, 
transfixed,  appalled. 


CHANTER. 

Nina  ?        Horrors  !       (Then  with  a  quaver  of  dismay  as  she  simply  stands 
before  him  unmistakable  and  imperturbable.)        What  doCS  thlS  mean  ? 


262  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Can't  you  imagine  ? 

CHANTER. 
Nothing  so  awful !     Go  away  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Not  without  you,  my  duck.     I've  come  for  you  ! 

CHANTER,  more  and  more  alarmed. 

You're  mad — you're  wicked — you're  indecent !     They'll 

all  be  here ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Then  you  can  present  me  !     That's  what  I've  waited  for. 

CHANTER. 

You've  waited  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
All  the  afternoon. 

CHANTER. 
And  who  has  seen  you  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Only  one  or  two,  as  yet ;  but  the  rest  shall  have  the 
treat. 

CHANTER,  scared,  helpless,  going  up  to  look  out  and  coming  down. 

Nina,  do  you  want  to  crush  me  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Yes,  to  small  pieces.     And  to  pick  them  up  and  keep 
them. 


ACT    FIRST  263 

CHANTER. 

Keep  them  in  a  mortuary  urn — you're  killing  me  !     How 
did  you  get  here  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

The  same  way  as  you,  I  suppose.     By  the  aid  of  my  wits. 

CHANTER. 

Your  wits  are  remarkable,  but  they've  sadly  misled  you. 
You've  taken  a  fatal  step  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Fatal,   no    doubt  (whipping  out  the  roll  of  tapestry  she  has  appropriated  in 

the  first  scene)  to  the  perpetrator  of  this  ! 
CHANTER. 

You  took  it  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

To  convict  you.     The  last  link  in  the  chain  ! 

CHANTER. 
Give  it  back  to  me  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

To  give  back  to  her?     Let  her  give  you  back  first 

(Then  tossing  the  tapestry  away.)       FaUgh  ! 

CHANTER,  distracted. 

They're  coming  !     Let  me  meet  you  somewhere  else  ! 


264  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    FRESH VI LLE,  austere. 

At  the  altar,  Captain  Chanter — to-morrow  ! 

CHANTER. 

Make  an  appointment  with  me — we'll  talk  it  over  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

We'll  talk  it  over  now — it'll  save  time. 

CHANTER. 

I  can't — I'm  faint ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I've  no  doubt  you  are  ! 

CHANTER. 

For  want  of  food  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Doesn't  she  give  you  enough — with  the  fortune  you're 
hunting  so  hard  ?  Come  with  me  and  you  shall  have 
plenty  ! 

CHANTER. 
There's  no  such  person  as  you  suppose ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Then  why  are  you  so  afraid  she'll  see  me  ? 

CHANTER. 

There  are  ladies  here,  but  they're  innocent —  ! 


ACT    FIRST  265 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

I  don't  suspect  them  all — one  will  do  ! 

CHANTER. 

Who  poisoned  your  mind  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

You,  and  your  flagrant  bad  faith ;  your  unnatural  ab- 
sences and  your  still  more  unnatural  explanations.  So 
I  sent  for  the  doctor. 

CHANTER. 

You  do  run  up  bills  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  sent  for  two  or  three.  They  had  a  consultation  and 
found  out  what  was  the  matter. 

CHANTER. 

I  could  have  told  you  for  nothing ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

They  put  their  finger  on  the  place  ! 

CHANTER,  blank. 
What  place  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

This  place  !     They  followed  you  ;  they  tracked  you. 

CHANTER. 

Detectives  ?     (Reproachful,  bantering.)     Oh,  bad  Nina  ! 


266  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

They  showed  me  the  way  !     I  took  it. 

CHANTER,  with  his  hand  fumbling  in  his  pocket,  going  up  again  and  coming 
down,  irresolute,  desperate,  on  pins  and  needles. 

Then  what'll  you  take  now  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Nothing,  thanks  :  I  had  something  at  the  inn  ! 

CHANTER. 
What  can  I  do  for  you  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Redeem  your  solemn  vow — make  me  your  wedded  wife  ! 

CHANT  ER,  stands  for  an  instant  thinking,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands. 

Meet  me  then — to-morrow.     I'll  come  up  to  town. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

With  the  ring  in  your  hand  ? 

CHANTER. 
And  bells  on  my  toes — all  the  jewelry  you  want ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

My  wants  are  limited  to  a  plain  gold  circle.     And  you 
needn't  come  up  to  town — I  shall  be  here. 

CHANTER. 

(    If  you  don't  allow  me  my  freedom  of  action,  how  can  I 
,   square  her? 


ACT    FIRST  267 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Allow  me  mine.     /'//  square  her  ! 

CHANTER. 
Don't  you  see  that  if  you  make  a  scene —  ?    (Checks  himself, 

listening.) 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Well,  if  I  make  a  scene  ? 

CHANTER. 

Why,  I'm  nowhere  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Well,  /  ain't — so  it  doesn't  matter !  But  I  don't  mind 
giving  you  an  hour  now — for  I  flatter  myself  I've  got 
you  ! 

CHANTER,  frightened,  as  she  is  going  up. 

Don't  go  that  way — wait ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Wait  here  ? 

CHANTER,  still  more  alarmed. 
No,   wait  there  !       (Pushing  her  to  the  lower  door  on  the  right.)      Don't 

come  out  till  we've  gone  to  dinner  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE,  hustled  out ;  on  which  CHANTER  turns,  deeply  agitated, 
to  meet  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY.  Re-enter  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  from  the  hall,  dressed 
for  dinner. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Where's  Mr.  Bonsor? 

CHANTER. 

I  haven't  seen  him. 


268  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Still  looking  for  that  woman  ? 

CHANTER,  vague,  on  his  guard. 

That  woman  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Why,  Paul's  dreadful  connection. 

CHANTER. 
Oh  yes  !     (To  himself.)     I  wish  she  were  Paul's  !     (Thinks  an 

instant.)       Perhaps    She  is  !       (Then  breathless  with  the  happy  thought.) 

That  photograph  ! — she  must  be  !     (Exultant.)     Saved  ! 

Re-enter  Mr.  BONSOR  from  the  hall,  dressed  for  dinner. 
MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

Did  you  see  her  ? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

No,  I  hunted — but  I  had  to  dress. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

She'll  come  back — we'll  catch  her  ! 

CHANTER,  nervous. 

Oh,  let's  have  dinner  first ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Where  are  the  young  people  ? 

CHANTER,  impatient,  seeing  BLANCHE. 

Here's  one  of  them — that's  enough  ! 

Re-enter  BLANCHE  AMBER  from  the  library. 


ACT    FIRST  269 

MR.   BONSOR. 
And  where's  Pitt  Brunt  ? 

BLANCHE. 
And  where's  Mr.  Paul? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  reminded,  clapping  her  hand  to  her  pocket. 

The  key's  in  my  other  dress — I  quietly  locked  him  in. 

BLANCHE,  smiling. 

He  must  have  escaped — he  was  here  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  alarmed. 

Here? 

BLANCHE. 

Ten  minutes  ago. 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY,  severe. 

You  quietly  locked  him  out ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Mercy — where  is  he  then  ? 

Re-enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall. 
CUBIT,  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

Dinner,  sir. 

CHANTER,  pressing,  catching  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  hy  the  arm  and  hurrying 
her  up  to  the  hall. 

It  doesn't  matter — come  ! 

Exeunt  Captain  CHANTER  and  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY,  and,  hurrying  after  them,  Mr. 
BONSOR  and  BLANCHE.  As  CUBIT  is  about  to  follow,  re-enter  PITT  BRUNT 
from  the  lawn.  ....• 


270  THE    REPROBATE 

CUBIT. 
Dinner,  sir. 

PITT  BRUNT,  resentful 

I've  looked  for  you  everywhere. 

CUBIT. 
Doing  my  'air,  sir. 

PITT  BRUNT 

Where's  that  lady  ? 

CUBIT,  blank,  giving  it  up. 

Showed  herself  out ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

But  where's  her  bag? 

CUBIT. 

No  connection  with  the  luggage,  sir. 

PITT  BRUNT,  mystified. 

I  give  it  up  ! 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT  to  the  hall. 
CUBIT,  alone,  glancing  about  him. 

Where  is  the  blessed  bag  ?     A  liberal  reward —     (Pauses 

as  he  sees  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE.) 

Re-enter  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  giving  CUBIT,  in  a  business-like  way,  as  soon  as  she 
sees  him,  another  sovereign  with  which  she  has  already  provided  herself. 

Add  that ! 


ACT    FIRST  271 

CUBIT,  with  the  sovereign. 

Sixpence  back,  ma'am  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

No — keep  it ! 

CUBIT. 
For  silence,  ma'am  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

For  anything  you  like  ! 

CUBIT,  to  himself. 

Thirty-nine  and  six ! 

Exit  CUBIT  to  the  hall.     Re-enter  PAUL  DOUBLEDAY  from  the  garden. 
MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  before  seeing  PAUL. 

But  my  reticule — with  the  dear  old  photo  ?     (Then  as  PAUL 
appears.)     Gracious  powers — the  original ! 

PAUL,  staring,  amazed,  coming  down. 

Nina? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  with  a  shriek,  throwing' herself  into  his  arms. 

Dudley  ! 


ACT    SECOND 

MR.  BONSOR'S  drawing-room.  Mr.  BONSOR,  at  the  table_on  the  left, 
busily  hunting  for  something,  lifting  up  one  object  after  the  other. 
Enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall. 

CUBIT. 
Did  you  ring,  sir? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Yes,  I  want  a  photograph — a  photograph  of  Mr.  Paul. 

CUBIT. 

Delighted  to  have  him  took,  sir. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

He  has  been  "  took,"  unfortunately  ;  and  the  result,  which 
was  placed  upon  this  table  yesterday,  by  Mrs.  Double- 
day,  has  been  surreptitiously  removed. 

CUBIT. 

Never  put  my  hand  to  anything,  sir. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
I  wish  you'd  put  your  head  !      I  want  Captain  Chanter. 


ACT    SECOND  273 

CUBIT. 
His  photograph,  sir  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

His  presence. 

CUBIT. 

Here  it  is,  sir. 

Enter  Captain  CHANTER  from  the  hall ;  to  which  exit  CUBIT. 
MR.    BONSOR,  opening  drawers,  to  CHANTER. 

Did  you  appropriate  that  photograph  —  the  one  Mrs. 
Doubleday  showed  you  ? 

CHANTER,  embarrassed. 

Oh,  the  picture  of  Paul  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

The  picture  of  Dudley  !     It  has  irrecoverably  vanished. 

CHANTER. 

I  put  it  back  on  the  table.     (To  himself.)     Nina  recovered 
it? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Then  who  can  have  taken  it  ? 

CHANTER,  thinking. 

Dudley  ! 

MR.    BONSOR. 

The  record  of  his  shame  ? 

VOL.   II  T 


274  THE    REPROBATE 

CHANTER,  prompt. 

To  cancel  his  shame. 

MR.    BONSOR,  severe. 

There  must  be  no  cancelling ! 

CHANTER. 
To  annihilate  the  proof. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
There  must  be  no  annihilation.     We'll  get  it  back. 

CHANTER. 

/'//  get  it  back  !  Perhaps  you've  already  heard  from 
Mrs.  Doubleday  that  I've  accepted  onerous  functions. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

It  was  precisely  on  the  subject  of  those  functions  that  I 
desired  to  converse  with  you.  Mrs.  Doubleday  has 
imparted  to  me  her  project  of  a  second  union. 

CHANTER. 

I  hope  you  don't  regard  it  as  a  defection.  It  doubles 
the  guard ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  with  dignity. 

The  guard  has  hitherto  been  adequate. 

CHANTER. 

How  can  you  say  so  in  the  face  of  our  present  alarm  ? 


ACT    SECOND  275 

MR.    BONSOR,  still  with  dignity. 

It's  very  good  of  you  to  share  it ! 

CHANTER. 
I  feel  strongly  that  you  require  relief. 

MR.   BONSOR,  virtuous. 
I've  never  asked  for  it ! 

CHANTER. 

You're  a   Stoic — you're  a  hero  !     But  remember  that 
Mrs.  Doubleday's  essentially  a  woman. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

It's  just  what  I've  endeavoured  to  forget ! 

CHANTER. 

Such    endeavours    are    vain  —  I    never    make    them. 
(Looking  at  his  watch.)     Mrs.  Doubleday's  late — I'm  waiting. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
What  are  you  waiting  for  ? 

CHANTER. 
To  take  Paul  over. 

MR.    BONSOR,  blank. 

Over  where  ? 

CHANTER. 

To  receive  him  from  her  hands.     She  commits  him  to 
me — ceremonially. 


276  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.   BONSOR. 
They're  preparing,  then,  for  the  ceremony. 

CHANTER,  grave. 

I've  been  preparing  too. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
In  what  manner? 

CHANTER. 

By  meditation.     We  hope  you'll  assist  at  it. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

I'll  not  refuse  to  show  you  that  I  appreciate  your 
singular  zeal.  The  more  so  that  it's  manifested  in  a 
critical  hour. 

CHANTER. 
It  was  just  the  crisis  that  appealed  to  me ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Are  you  ready  to  meet  it  ? 

CHANTER. 

With  your  inspiring  confidence  ! 

MR.   BONSOR,  after  an  instant. 
YOU    have    it  !       (They  shake  hands  solemnly  ;  then  Mr.  BONSOR  looks  at 

his  watch.)     She  must  be  decking  him  for  the  solemn  rite. 

CHANTER. 

With  ribbons  and  garlands  ? 


ACT    SECOND  277 

MR.   BONSOR. 
With  sackcloth  and  ashes. 

CHANTER,  impatient. 

I  want  to  get  at  him  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
It's  my  individual  conviction  that  he  has  been  got  at ! 

CHANTER. 

You  allude  to  last  evening? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

While  we  were  at  dinner.  Just  after  the  member  for 
Blackport  had  taken  his  place  among  us,  we  were 
startled  by  the  sound  of  a  remarkable  concussion.  It 
seemed  to  proceed  from  the  drawing-room. 

CHANTER. 
Which  we  all  invaded — to  find  it  didn't. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

All  except  Blanche.  One  of  the  parties  to  the  encounter 
had  already  vanished,  but  Paul  was  on  the  spot. 

CHANTER. 

Declaring — when  examined — that  he  hadn't  laid  eyes 
on  any  one. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

It's  the  first  time,  remarkable  to  say,  that  he  has  ever 
told  an  untruth. 


278  THE    REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 
Are  you  sure  it  is  an  untruth  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 
He  was  pale,  agitated,  unnatural. 

CHANTER. 
He  didn't  wish  to  compromise  the  lady  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Hadn't  she  compromised  him  ? 

CHANTER. 

He  has  no  character  to  lose.     But  the  question  shall 
be  probed  to  the  bottom. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Please  probe  it ! 

Re-enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall. 
CUBIT,  announcing. 

Mr.  Pitt  Brunt ! 

Enter  PITT  BRUNT  from  the  hall. 

MR.    BONSOR. 
Have  you  brought  your  luggage  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

It  consists  mainly  of  my  quotations — twenty  volumes 
of  Hansard. 


ACT    SECOND  279 

CHANTER. 
Your  quotations  must  be  singularly  copious  ! 

MR.   BONSOR,  to  CHANTER. 

He  will   contribute    to  those  of  posterity.      (To  CUBIT.) 
Arrange  the  twenty  volumes.    . 


PITT  BRUNT,  to  CUBIT. 

Chronologically  ! 


Exit  CUBIT  to  the  hall. 


MR.    BONSOR,  to  CHANTER. 

The  member  for  Blackport  is  to  meet  his  electors. 

PITT  BRUNT.   ' 

I'm  writing  my  speech — and  trying  it  on  Mr.  Bonsor. 

CHANTER. 

I  hope  it'll  be  a  comfortable  fit.     I'll  not  interfere  with 
the  process. 

Exit  Captain  CHANTER  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 
MR.  BONSOR,  to  BRUNT. 

It  will  save  time  to  have  you  in  the  house.     And  then 
there's  another  reason. 

PITT  BRUNT,  as  BLANCHE  appears. 

Here's    the    Other    reason  !       (Enter  BLANCHE  AMBER  from  the  hall 
with  a  railway  novel  in  her  hand.)       Good  morning.        I've  COme  to 

stay  ! 


28o  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 

I'm  very  happy,  this  morning,  to  feel  that  that's  just 
what  I've  done ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Isn't  it  a  remarkably  interesting  house  ? 

BLANCHE. 

Fascinating  !  (Mr.  BONSOR  and  PITT  BRUNT  look  at  each  other,  and 
BLANCHE  considers  a  moment  the  cover  of  her  railway  novel.  Then  she  speaks 
abruptly.)  Dear  Uncle  !  (Holding  out  her  book.)  Is  that  im- 

proper  ? 

MR.  BONSOR,  with  the  book,  looking  at  the  cover  with  his  glasses. 

A  lady  and  gentleman,  engaged — 

BLANCHE. 

Oh,  they're  not  engaged  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  interested. 

What  are  they  doing  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Embracing  !  (Dubious,  disapproving,  while  he  still  looks.)  If  they're 
not  engaged — 

PITT  BRUNT. 

They  ought  to  be !  (To  BLANCHE.)  Every  one  who  isn't 
ought  to  be. 

BLANCHE. 

From  a  sense  of  duty  ?  I'm  afraid  I've  no  conscience. 
(To  Mr.  BONSOR.)  May  I  lend  that  book  to  Mr.  Paul  ? 


ACT    SECOND  281 

MR.    BONSOR,  looking  at  her  severely  over  his  glasses. 

The  question  exemplifies  your  deficiency  ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

You  may  lend  it  to  me. 

BLANCHE,  taking  the  book  back. 

You  wouldn't  understand  it ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
You've  got  your  Hansard. 

Re-enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall. 
CUBIT,  to  BRUNT. 

I  think  I've  set  them  straight,  sir. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Chronologically  ? 

CUBIT,  blank  an  instant. 

No,  sir,  on  their  sides. 

MR.   BONSOR,  to  BRUNT. 

Go  and  see. 

PITT  BRUNT,  smiling  to  BLANCHE. 

I  must  make  them  sit  up  ! 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT  to  the  hall.    Exit  CUBIT. 
MR.   BONSOR. 

He  makes  the  House  ! 

BLANCHE,  tossing  down  her  book. 

Isn't  he  supposed  to  know  anything1} 


282  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.    BONSOR,  who  has  taken  up  the  book. 

The  member  for  Blackport  ? 

BLANCHE. 

The  prisoner  of  Chillon  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

He's  supposed  to  know  too  much  !  The  harm's  done, 
but  we  endeavour  to  prevent  its  spreading.  (He  goes  to  the 

cabinet  on  the  right,  opens  it  and,  seeing  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE'S  reticule,  which  he 
has  put  away  there,  considers  an  instant,  and  then,  as  if  with  a  happy  thought, 
plumps  the  book  into  it.  To  himself.)  Just  do  for  her  / 

BLANCHE,  who  has  not  seen  this  proceeding ;  musing,  objecting. 

He  seems  after  all  to  do  nothing  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  triumphant. 

What  did  he  do  last  night  ? 

BLANCHE. 
I     haven't    the    least    idea.        (Then  after  an  instant.)         But     I 

should  like  to  help  you  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  suspicious. 

Everyone  would  like  to  "  help  "  me  ! 

BLANCHE. 
You  must  double  the  guard  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
That's  what  they  all  say  ! 


ACT    SECOND  283 

BLANCHE. 
It  shows  there's  something  in  it ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

There  may  be  something  in  it,  but  it's  not  what  I  sent 
for  you  for. 

BLANCHE,  turning  away  with  a  groan. 

Ah,  dear  uncle,  I  know  what  you  sent  for  me  for ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
The  member  for  Blackport's  the  Idol  of  the  North ! 

BLANCHE. 

The  idol  should  remain  in  his  temple. 

MR.    BONSOR,  indignant. 

What  would  the  House  do  without  him  ? 

BLANCHE. 
Perhaps  it  would  wake  up  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

The  House  is  his  temple  !     He's  the  young  man  of  the 
hour. 

BLANCHE. 
Do  you  mean  of  the  dinner-hour  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

There's  not  a  question  of  the  day  that  he  has  not  made 
his  own. 


284  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
Well,  dear  uncle,  as  fm  not  the  question  of  the  day — 

MR.   BONSOR. 

You  would  none  the  less  have  your  appointed  place. 
His  private  life  would  be  worthy  of  his  public. 

BLANCHE. 
But  should  7  be  worthy  of  his  private  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Let  him  read  you  his  momentous  speech. 

BLANCHE. 
Is  it  very  long? 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Not  yet ;  but  it  will  be.     It's  growing  fast. 

BLANCHE,  smiling. 

Then  I'll  take  it  when  it's  little,     (in  another  tone.)     But,  all 
the  same,  I'm  interested  in  Mr.  Paul. 

MR.    BONSOR,  disconcerted. 

"  Interested  "  ? 

BLANCHE. 
I  regard  him  as  an  object  of  charity. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Why  so  ?     His  wants  are  provided  for  ! 


ACT    SECOND  285 

BLANCHE. 
There  are  wants  and  wants.     Why  not  let  him  have — 

MR.    BONSOR,  as  she  pauses,  thinking. 

Let  him  have  what  ? 

BLANCHE. 

One's  scraps  of  leisure — one's  ideas  of  life. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

He's  not  a  person  for  you  to  meet  on  a  social  basis. 

BLANCHE. 

Oh,  I  want  to  approach  him  in  a  missionary  spirit. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
You  won't  convert  him. 

BLANCHE. 

Perhaps  not.     (Smiling.)     But  I'll  clothe  him  ! 

MR.    BONSOR. 

That  is  the  first  proper  step  ;  but  have  you  the  material  ? 

BLANCHE,  laughing. 

Yards  and  yards  and  yards  ! 

Re-enter  Captain  CHANTER  from  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 
CHANTER. 


Have  they  come  ? 


286  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.   BONSOR. 


They've  come. 


Enter  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  and  PAUL  from  the  hall  while  BLANCHE  and 
CHANTER  converse. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  perceiving  this. 

Captain  !  (CHANTER  instantly  quits  BLANCHE  and  comes  to  her,  a  move- 
ment which  leaves  PAUL  exposed.  As  BLANCHE  moves  a  little  nearer  to  PAUL 
Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  resumes.)  Paul  ! 

PAUL,  startled,  coming  down  to  her. 

Mamma  ? 

Re-enter  from  the  hall  PITT  BRUNT,  with  several  volumes  of  Hansard  under 
one  arm  and  a  portfolio  under  the  other. 

PITT  BRUNT,  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

May  I  work  in  the  library  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  assenting. 

My  niece  will  assist  you. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Oh,  Miss  Amber ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
She's  eager  to  listen  to  your  speech. 

PITT  BRUNT. 
She      shall !          (Then    looking    round    complacently    at    the    company.) 

Perhaps  you'd  all  like  to  listen. 


ACT    SECOND  287 

PAUL,  very  prompt. 

Mamma,  would  it  be  safe  for  me  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  smiling. 

It  wouldn't  if  you  had  to  reply  to  me  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

He's  never  allowed  to  reply  ! 

CHANTER,  to  BRUNT. 

An  arrangement  is  pending  by  which  I  shall  henceforth 
answer  for  him.  But  I'm  afraid  that,  for  the  present, 
we  must  occupy  ourselves  exclusively  with  this  arrange- 
ment. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Before  we  enter  upon  it,  I  beg  Mr.  Bonsor  to  mention — 

MR.    BONSOR,  blank,  while  she  pauses  as  if  from  delicacy. 

To  mention —  ? 

CHANTER. 
The  nature  of  the  connection  about  to  be  formed. 

BLANCHE,  eager. 

Matrimonial  ? 

PAU  L,  struck,  echoing. 

Matrimonial ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  with  reprobation. 

Paul! 


288  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE,  wondering. 

Is  that  not  the  nature  of  the  connection  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  with  reprobation. 

Blanche  ! 

BLANCHE,  to  PAUL,  smiling. 

But  it  must  be  either  one  thing  or  the  other,  musn't  it  ? 

PAUL. 

I'm  never  allowed  to  reply. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

You  will  therefore  receive  without  comment — 

MR.    BONSOR,  as  she  hesitates. 

As  /  have  done — 

CHANTER. 

The  news  of  your  mother's  intended  marriage — 

BLANCHE,  as  he  hesitates. 

To  Captain  Chanter,  I'm  sure. 

PAUL,  struck,  precipitate. 

The  Captain  ? — By  jingo  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  privately,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY. 

He  had jft  taken  it  in  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

We  never  crossed  the  line. 


ACT    SECOND  289 

MR.   BONSOR. 
It  excites  a  train  of  thought. 

MRS.    DOUBLED  AY. 

That  was  just  our  scruple. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
He  thinks  it  relieves  him. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  emphatic. 

It  doesn't ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  gay,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY. 

I'm   SOrry  for  Mr.   Bonsor  !       (To  Mr.  BONSOR,  summarily  presenting 
the  Hansards  in  a  pile.)       Just  take  these. 

MR.    BONSOR,  vague,  but  receiving  the  Hansards. 

What  am  I  to  do  with  them  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  prompt. 

Verify. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Can't  you  verify  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  must  give  my  attention  to  Miss  Amber. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Miss  Amber  had  better  give  hers  to  us  ! 

BLANCHE. 

With  pleasure,  Mrs.  Doubleday. 

VOL.   II  U 


290  THE   REPROBATE 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

To  see  Paul  committed. 

PAUL,  alarmed. 

Committed  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

I'm  going  to  make  you  over. 

PAUL,  rueful. 

You've  been  trying  that  all  my  life  ! 

MRS.  DOUBLEDAY. 

This    time    I    shall   succeed.       I    deliver    you    to    the 
Captain. 

CHANTER,  passing  between  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  and  PAUL. 

I  beg  to  acknowledge  receipt ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  to  PAUL. 

You're  to  look  up  to  him  as  you've  looked  up  to  me. 
CHANTER. 

I  become,  as  it  were,  your  second  mother. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
As  I've  been,  as  it  were,  your  second  father ! 

PAUL,  resigned,  bewildered. 

I  seem  to  have  plenty  of  relations  ! 


ACT    SECOND  291 

BLANCHE. 
Shouldn't  you  like  a  sister  thrown  in  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

The  family  is  quite  large  enough  !     (Privately  to  CHANTER.) 
I  wanted  her  to  take  it  in  ! 

CHANTER. 
She  shall  take  it  in  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  who  has  extracted  a  small  cob  from  her  portemonnaie. 

Let  me  hand  you  this. 

CHANTER,  with  the  coin,  vague. 

Sixpence  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

His  allowance. 

CHANTER. 
It  doesn't  pass  through  his  hands  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

We  apply  it  to  some  benevolent  object. 

CHANTER,  pocketing  the  sixpence. 

It  shall  be  devoted  to  a  worthy  one  ! 

MR.   BONSOR,  to  CHANTER. 

You'll  find  your  place  no  sinecure. 

CHANTER,  virtuous. 

No — but  Mrs.  Doubleday  will  breathe  ! 


292  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Not  yet — I  disseminate  the  news. 

CHANTER. 
You  rush  up  to  London? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
I  rush  to  my  writing-desk. 

Exit  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  to  the  hall. 
PITT  BRUNT,  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

I  sent  the  others  to  your  room. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
1    Most  kind  of  you. 

PITT  BRUNT. 
Thirteen  volumes — to  verify. 

MR.   BONSOR,  going  up. 

I'll  verify. 

PITT  BRUNT. 
You're    forgetting    these.         (Takes  and  presents  again  those  he  has 

brought  in.)     Twenty  in  all. 

MR.    BONSOR,  impressive,  to  BLANCHE,  as  he  takes  the  pile  in  his  two  arms. 

The  Idol  of  the  North  ! 

Exit  Mr.  BONSOR  to  the  hall  with  the  books. 
PITT  BRUNT,  gracious,  opening  the  door  of  the  library  to  BLANCHE. 

He's  ready  to  mount  his  pedestal. 


ACT    SECOND  293 

BLANCHE. 
Do  you  want  me  to  hold  it  while  you  get  on  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  smiling. 

It  won't  run  away  ! 

BLANCHE. 
I  wish  you  would  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  arch,  at  the  door  of  the  library. 

For  you  to  run  after  me  ? 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT. 

CHANTER,  looking  from  BLANCHE  to  PAUL  a  moment,  then  reflecting, 
deciding  and  taking  two  half-crowns  out  of  his  pocket. 

Let  me  hand  you  this  ! 

PAUL,  with  the  money,  surprised. 

Five  shillings  ? 

CHANTER. 
Your  allowance. 

PAUL. 

Four  and  sixpence  too  much  ! 

CHANTER. 
I  change  the  system — I  increase  the  sum  ! 

PAUL,  helpless,  appealing. 

What  shall  I  do  with  it  ? 

CHANTER,  gay,  cynical. 

Whatever  you  like  ! 


294  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE,  looking  from  PAUL  to  CHANTER  ;  then  resolutely,  as  if  with  a 

Captain  Chanter,  will  you  leave  me  a  moment  with  Mr. 
Paul? 

CHANTER. 
Do  you  want  to  rifle  him  ? 

BLANCHE. 

I  want  to  advise  him  ! 

CHANTER. 

As  much  as  you  like  ! 

Exit  Captain  CHANTER  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 

PAUL,  amazed,  quite  scandalised,  looking  after  CHANTER  while  he  puts  the 
money  in  his  waistcoat-pocket. 

I  can't  look  up  to  him  ! 

BLANCHE,  laughing. 

He  inspires  me  with  positive  reverence  ! 

PAUL. 
Mamma  wouldn't  have  left  me  with  you  ! 

BLANCHE. 

I  wouldn't  have  asked  her ! 

PAUL. 
Mr.  Bonsor  wouldn't  have  done  it  either  ! 

BLANCHE. 
I  wouldn't  have  asked  him  ! 


ACT    SECOND  295 

PAUL. 
You  knew  your  man,  eh  ? 

BLANCHE. 
I  divined  him  ! 

PAUL. 

You  just  took  a  shot ! 

BLANCHE. 

You  see  it  succeeded. 

PAUL. 
Yes,  isn't  it  awful  ? 

BLANCHE. 
Ah,  don't  say  that  when  I'm  fighting  at  your  side ! 

PAUL. 
Thanks — but  you  do  undermine  me  ! 

BLANCHE. 

Why,  if  I  asked  him  to  go  it  was  on  purpose  to  prop 
you  up. 

PAUL. 

It's  just  when  you  prop  me,  you  know,  that   I   seem 
most  to  come  down  ! 

BLANCHE. 

Don't  think  of  me  as  a  mere  young  lady ;  think  of  me 
as  an   invalid's  attendant — as  a  doctor — as  a  district 

nurse. 


296  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
A  sort  of  sister  of  charity,  eh  ? 

BLANCHE. 

Yes,  but  not  in  the  least  of  a  strict  order. 

PAUL. 
Strict  orders  are  issued  to  me  daily  ! 

BLANCHE. 
Oh,  I  shall  be  easy  with  you,  for  I  know  you're  in  trouble. 

PAUL,  anxious,  looking  round. 

Indeed  I  am  in  trouble  ! 

BLANCHE. 
Your  wild  past  comes  back  to  you. 

PAUL. 
It  came  back  last  night.     But  it  only  stayed  a  minute. 

BLANCHE. 
Such  minutes  must  be  wonderfu^  ! 

PAUL. 

They  do  upset  one  ! 

BLANCHE. 
They  make  you  feel  you  live  ! 

PAUL.  , 
Yes,  but  in  the  tomb  of  my  reputation. 


ACT    SECOND  297 

BLANCHE. 

Ah,  you're  not  buried ;  your  tomb  is  open  to  the  sky. 
You  see  the  sun  and  the  stars ;  you  feel  the  wind  and 
the  weather ! 

PAUL. 

The  wind  and  the  weather  very  much,  Miss  Amber.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  I  were  taking  cold  ! 

BLANCHE. 
What  of  that?     You  won't,  at  least,  have  vegetated! 

(Then  as  she  goes.)       /  shall  ! 

PAUL. 
Where  are  you  going  ? 

BLANCHE. 

To  study  to  be  a  cabbage  ! 

PAUL. 
Well,  it's  simpler ! 

BLANCHE. 
Oh,  I  shall  be  simple.     I  should  say  the  penny  kind ! 

PAUL. 
Meanwhile  I  must  continue  the  struggle. 

BLANCHE. 
Yes,  till  you  can  fight  no  more  ! 

PAUL. 

And  when  I  can  fight  no  more  ? 


298  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE,  at  the  door  of  the  library,  considering. 

I'll  tell  you  then  what  to  do  ! 

Exit  BLANCHE. 
PAUL,  alone. 

Yes,  I  shan't  have  vegetated  !     I  should  have  been  only 
yesterday  the   ornament  of  a  kitchen -garden,  but  her 

hand    has    plucked    me    Up  !       (Then,  as  he  sees  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE.) 

For  hers  to  prepare  me  for  the  table  ? 

Enter  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  from  the  hall. 
MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  breathless,  hurrying  down. 

Dudley  ! 

PAUL,  who  has  receded  to  the  door  of  the  library,  looking  at  her  in 
melancholy  contemplation. 

Nina 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  stopping  short  in  the  middle  of  the  stage. 

No  hug  for  Nina  ? 

PAUL,  checking  her  with  his  finger  to  his  lips. 

When  we  hug  they  hear  it ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Did  they  hear  it  last  night  ? 

PAUL. 

Distinctly.      They   rushed    in.      Fortunately   you    had 
rushed  out. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Yes,  my  boy,  you  did  bundle  me  ! 


ACT    SECOND  299 

PAUL. 
How  did  you  get  in  now  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

The  same  way  as  before.     I've  bought  the  butler. 

PAUL. 
Cubit  must  be  rather  expensive  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
A  pound  a  visit. 

PAUL. 
It  comes  pretty  high. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

About  the  same  as  a  high-class  doctor.     But,  my  dear 

child,    I    Consider    yOU    WOrth    it  !       (Looking  at  him  a  moment.) 

You  do  look  so  fresh  ! 

PAUL,  uneasy,  distressed. 

Nina,  I  beg  you  not  to  allude  to  my  appearance  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Why  should  you  be  ashamed  of  it  ?     You  look  awfully 
young. 

PAUL. 

I  feel  awfully  young  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Taken  care  of  yourself,  eh  ? 


300  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
I  should  say,  rather,  I  have  been  taken  care  of ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE.  ' 

Well,  /  haven't !     How  do  /  look  ? 

PAUL. 

You  look  like  somebody  else. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

You  think  I've  a  different  type  ? 

PAUL. 
Haven't  you  got  different  hair  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Oh  yes ;  it  used  to  be  red. 

PAUL. 
My  dear,  it  used  to  be  black  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Oh,  black,  was  it  ?     Red  the  year  before.     But  your's, 
darling,  is  the  same  ! 

PAUL. 

My  hair  may  be  the  same,  Nina,  but  everything  else  is 
changed. 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 

Yes,  everything  does  change,  Dudley  ! 


ACT    SECOND  301 

PAUL. 
One's  very  name,  to  begin  with.     I'm  not  Dudley  now  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  surprised. 

Then  what  are  you,  pray  ? 

PAUL. 
A  mere  anonymous  nobody  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  in  friendly  compassion. 

It's  all  over,  eh  ? 

PAUL. 

It  was  over  long  ago  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 
Short    and    Sweet,   eh  ?       (Then  as  he  checks  her  again,  listening,  with 

his  finger  to  his  lips.)     What's  the  matter  ? 

PAUL. 
I  thought  they  were  coming  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  undisturbed. 

But  they  ain't,  eh  ? 

PAUL. 

I  hope  not.     I'm  trying  to  be  good. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

So  am  I ;  but  I'm  not  very  sure  it  pays  ! 

PAUL,  struck,  suppliant. 

Ah,  Nina,  don't  say  that ! 


302  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Why  not,  if  it's  true  ?  You  live  up  to  a  standard 
because  you  think  some  others  do ;  and  after  you've 
had  all  the  worry — 

PAUL,  as  she  pauses. 

Yes,  Nina  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Why,  you  find  they  don't ! 

PAUL,  wondering. 

Don't  they  really  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

See  what  an  awful  sell !  You  go  spinning  along  the 
path  of  virtue,  and  if  at  the  end  of  the  run  you  happen 
to  look  back,  what  do  you  see  ? 

PAUL. 
I  never  look  back  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
All  of  them  sitting  down  ! 

PAUL. 

I  never  sit  down  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Partaking  freely  of  refreshment. 

PAUL. 

I  never  partake  ! 


ACT    SECOND  303 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

No  more  do  I ;  but  I  feel  the  want  of  it ! 

PAUL. 

You  have  your  equivalent :  you've  acquired  the  habit  of 
virtue. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Yes,  that's  the  worst  of  it :  you've  got  to  go  on. 
PAUL. 

Let  me  earnestly  entreat  you  to  do  so  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I'm  going  on ;  that's  what  has  brought  me  here  ! 

PAUL. 

Yes,  on  the  railroad  of  virtue  this  is  certainly  a  lively    , 
station  !     But  how  did  you  find  it  out  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

By  the  aid  of  the  police. 

PAUL,  alarmed. 

The  police  ?     Are  they  after  me  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

You,  my  dear  fellow  ?     I  didn't  come  for  you  ! 

PAUL,  blank. 

Who  did  you  come  for  ? 


304  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Ain't  there  another  rascal  on  the  premises  ? 

PAUL,  amazed. 

Mr.  Bonsor? 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
Try  again  ! 

PAUL. 
Captain    Chanter  ?        (Then  perceiving  her  assent.)        The    police 

are  after  him  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Not  now — but  /  am  !     It's  better. 

PAUL. 
What  do  you  want  of  him  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  want  to  marry  him. 

PAUL. 

Marry  him  ?     Why,  he's  engaged  ! 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
Right  you  are — to  me. 

PAUL,  stupefied. 

You  and  my  mother  ? 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
Is  she  your  mother  ? 


ACT    SECOND  305 

PAUL. 
My  stepmother. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

That  monster  ? 

PAUL. 
Don't  abuse  her,  Nina — she's  my  guardian  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Your  guardian  ?     (Struck.)     Are  you  the  common  object  ? 

PAUL,  blank. 

The  common  object  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

That  I  heard  about  yesterday — such  a  peculiar  case. 

PAUL. 
I  am  a  peculiar  case  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

You're  vicious,  eh  ? 

PAUL. 

Fundamentally ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  dubious. 

So  bad  you  require  two  of  them  ? 

PAUL. 

I  require  three — with  the  Captain. 

VOL,   II  X 


3o6  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  amazed 

Is  he  one  ? 

PAUL. 

He  looks  after  my  morals. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
And  who  looks  after  his  ? 

PAUL,  wondering,  artless. 

Why,  I  thought  they  were  perfect ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
So  did  I.     But  they  ain't ! 

PAUL,  thinking. 

That  won't  suit  Mamma  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Then  let  her  drop  him  ! 

PAUL. 
That  won't  suit  him  1 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
He's  too  particular.     Leave  him  to  me. 

PAUL,  anxious. 

And  what'll  you  do  with  him  ? 


ACT    SECOND  307 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Do    With    him  ?        (After  an  instant,  considering.)         See    he     lets 

you  alone. 

PAUL,  anxious. 

Then  what'll  become  of  me  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I'll  look  after  you  myself! 

PAUL,  astonished. 

After  both  of  us  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
It    will    be    all    One    job  !       (After  looking  at  him  a  moment.)       As 

for  you — I  don't  believe  it ! 

PAUL. 

Don't  believe  what  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Why,  that  you're  a  peculiar  case. 

PAUL. 

Then  look  at  the  evidence  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Hang  the  evidence  !     Try — and  see. 


PAUL. 

Try  ?     Try  what  ? 


308  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESH VI LLE. 

Try  everything  ! 

PAUL. 
Why,  everything's  wrong ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
You  are,  my  dear,  to  begin  with  !     Everything's  right ! 

PAUL,  bewildered. 

Everything's  deuced  awkward,  at  any  rate  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Your  dear  old  face,  as  you  say  that,  comes  back  to  me  ! 

PAUL. 

Don't  let  it,  Nina — for  heaven's  sake  send  it  away  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

With  that  sweet  little  waxed   moustache.      What  have 
you  done  with  the  ends  ? 

PAUL. 
They've  followed  those  of  all  the  candles  and  cigars  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

The   burnt-out    fires?  —  the   withered    flowers?      You 
always  had  a  lovely  buttonhole. 

PAUL. 
I've  given  up  buttonholes — they  look  too  dissolute. 


ACT    SECOND  309 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Dissolute  ? — the  flowers  of  the  field  ?     I  never  heard  of 
such  rot ! 

PAUL. 

Neither  have  I,  Nina !     But  they  wouldn't  like  me  to 
say  so. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

"  They  "  ?     Mamma  and  the  Captain  ? 

PAUL. 
Perhaps  the  Captain  wouldn't  object — 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  should  like  to  see  him  ! 

PAUL. 

But  such  an  expression  wouldn't  go  unrebuked  by  Mr. 
Bonsor. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
The  old  busybody  who  chased  you  to  Paris  ? 

PAUL,  prompt. 

Oh,  he  was  my  father !      (Then  struck.)      Gracious,   what 
have  I  said? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

The  simple  truth.      They  did  make  a  rumpus  about 
nothing  ! 

PAUL. 
Not  exactly  nothing  ! 


3io  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Nothing  worth  speaking  of! 

PAUL. 

I  don't  speak  of  it ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

But  they  do  still,  eh  ? 

PAUL. 

To  every  one  they  see ! 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 

To  the  Captain,  do  you  suppose  ? 

PAUL. 
Oh,  above  all  to  the  Captain  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  after  consideration. 

Well,  that's  no  matter.     He  doesn't  know  it  was  me. 
PAUL. 

He'll  find  it  eut. 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 

I  don't  care  if  he  does  ! 

PAUL. 
Not  if  he  wants  to  marry  you  ? 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
He  doesn't ! 


ACT    SECOND  311 

PAUL,  reasoning,  perplexed. 

Still — if  he's  engaged — ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

He's  engaged  to  your  mamma.  If  he  can  stand  your 
mamma,  he  can  stand  me. 

PAUL. 
But  how  can  he  marry  you  both  ? 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 

Trust  him  to  manage  it — if  it's  necessary  !  But  it  ain't 
necessary. 

PAUL. 

I'm  glad  of  that ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

He'll  chuck  your  mamma. 

PAUL,  rueful. 

So  that  I  shall  receive  her  on  the  rebound  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  struck,  compassionate. 

No,  that  won't  do,  you  poor  dear,  will  it?  (After another 
instant,  sociable.)  We  did  hit  it  off,  me  and  you,  didn't  we, 
Dud? 

PAUL. 
I  confess  I  was  rather  afraid  of  you. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

You've  got  over  that,  I  hope  ! 


3i2  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
I  think  I'm  gaining  confidence. 

MRS.   FRESH VI LLE. 

So  am  I,  though  you  gave  me,  last  night,  a  turn. 
PAUL. 

I  didn't  sleep  a  wink  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Nor  me,  fancy  !     I  thought  of  the  old  days — of  the  way 
I  used  to  sing  to  you  ! 

PAUL,  beguiled. 

Do  you  remember  your  old  songs  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  eager. 

Should  you  like  to  hear  one  ? 

PAUL,  suddenly  alarmed. 

Heavens,  no  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  as  he  goes  up,  on  his  guard. 

They're  out  of  fashion  now ;  they've  got  a  new  lot ! 

PAUL,  coming  down. 

Are  you  still  at  the  Waterloo  ? 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
Dear,  no ;  bless  the  old  shop ! 


ACT    SECOND  313 

PAUL,  after  an  instant,  gentle. 

Your  voice  was  very  sweet,  Nina. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

So  was  yours,  old  chap.     Do  you  still  sing? 

PAUL,  aghast. 

Sing  ?     Why,  I  scarcely  speak  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

I  remember  how  little  you  thought  of  your  own  powers. 
You  only  wanted  me  to  develop  ! 

PAUL. 

I'm  bound  to  say  you  did  develop  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Through  the  course  of  instruction  you  so  liberally  pro- 
vided.    It  was  for  that  we  went  to  Paris. 

PAUL,  recalling,  recognising. 

Yes,  it  was  simply  for  that ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Our  musical  studies.     Where  was  the  awful  harm  ? 

PAUL,  thinking. 

After  all,  where  was  it  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

We  simply  went  in  for  a  thorough  course. 


314  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
We  thought  it  our  duty  to  hear  what  they  were  doing. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  reminiscent,  wistful. 

Ah,  they  do  such  a  lot !     What  was  that  place  ?     The 
Alcazar ! 

PAUL. 
And  that  other  ?     The  Eldorado  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

And  the  Valentino ! 

PAUL. 
And  the  Solferino ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

That  was  where  ,at  last  they  collared  us  ! 

PAUL,  starting,  seeing  CHANTER. 

They've  collared  us  again  ! 

Re-enter  Captain  CHANTER,  with  a  yellow-covered  French  novel  and  a  box  of 
cigars,  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 

CHANTER,  bland. 

Good  morning,  Mrs.  Freshville. 

PAUL,  surprised. 

Is  that  your  name  now  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  ominous,  looking  at  CHANTER. 

Not  the  one  he  generally  uses  !     Didn't  I  mention  that 
I've  been  married? 


ACT    SECOND  315 

CHANTER,  smiling. 

You   must  have  had  so  much  else  to  say  !     (To  PAUL.) 
She  belongs  to  the  category  of  irresistible  widows. 

MRS.   FRESHV1LLE. 

But  not  to  the  most  irresistible  part  of  it.     (with  intensity,  to 
CHANTER.)     Those  with  five  thousand  a  year. 

PAUL,  to  CHANTER  ;  still  meek  and  respectful,  but  explanatory  and  lucid. 

I've  had  the   pleasure  of  some  previous  acquaintance 
with  Mrs.  Freshville. 

CHANTER,  genial. 

My  dear  fellow,  I  know  all  about  it ! 

PAUL,  to  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE,  rueful. 

He  knows  all  about  it ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
I  don't  care  a  rap  what  he  knows ! 

CHANTER,  frank  and  gay. 
I  shall  make    yOU  Care  !       (To  PAUL,  sociable,  handing  the  cigar-box.) 

Have  a  Regalia  ? 

PAUL,  looking  at  the  cigars  hard  an  instant,  then  hard  at  CHANTER,  as  if  to 
fathom  his  tortuous  ways. 

What  will  Mamma  say  ? 


316  THE    REPROBATE 

CHANTER,  smiling,  tempting. 

I  WOn't  tell  her  !  (PAUL,  hesitating,  takes  a  cigar  out  of  the  case,  turns 
away  with  it  and  stands  a  moment  looking  at  it.  CHANTER,  meanwhile,  selects 
one  for  himself.  PAUL,  suddenly,  with  a  nervous  movement,  jerks  away  his 
own  cigar,  tosses  it  on  a  table  and  goes  up,  uneasily,  nervously.  CHANTER, 
lighting  a  cigar,  continues  to  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE.)  Shall  I  offer  yOU 

one  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  with  her  hand  on  her  pocket. 

I've  got  my  cigarettes  !     (Feeling.)     No,  I  haven't ;  they're 

in  my  reticule.       (Looking,  with  renewed  despair,  about  her.)      Where 

the  dickens  is  it  ? 

CHANTER,  cool,  without  moving. 

Don't  mind.  I'll  find  it !  (Then  to  PAUL.)  I  say,  here's  a 
book  for  you. 

PAUL,  eager,  coming  down. 

A  book  ? 

CHANTER,  handing  him  his  yellow-covered  volume. 

A  little  French  novel ! 

PAUL,  timid,  taking  the  book. 

Zola? 

CHANTER,  puffing  his  cigar. 

Zola! 

PAUL,  gazing  at  the  cover. 

What  will  Mamma  say  ? 


ACT   SECOND       -  317 

CHANTER. 


I  won't  tell  her  ! 


Paul  turns  away  slowly,  with  his  novel,  as  he  has  done  with  his  cigar,  and 
looks  in  the  same  way  at  the  cover  without  opening  it.  Then  he  tosses  it 
down,  as  he  has  tossed  his  cigar,  and  goes  up,  with  the  same  nervous  move- 
ment, to  stand  an  instant  at  the  window  and  look  out  at  the  lawn. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  seated,  to  CHANTER. 

Ain't  you  ashamed,  you  horrid  thing  ? 

CHANTER. 

Ain't    yOU,   yOU  designing  WOman  ?       (Then  as  he  draws  a  pack  of 
cards  from  his  pocket  and  holds  it  out  to  PAUL.)      I  Say,  choOSC  a  Card. 

PAUL,  alert,  coming  down. 

A  card  ? 

CHANTER. 

One  of  these. 

PAUL. 

What  will  Mamma  say  ? 

CHANTER 

I  won't  tell  her  ! 

PAUL,  looking  at  the  cards,  fascinated  but  hesitating. 

What  are  you  doing  ? 

CHANTER. 

A  little  trick.     Take  any  you  like.     (As  PAUL  draws  out  a  card.) 
What  is  it  ? 

PAUL. 

The  Queen  of  Hearts  ! 


318  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  seated. 

Graceful  allusion  to  me  ! 

CHANTER. 

Please  keep  it  till  I  take  it  back. 

PAUL  turns  away  in  the  same  manner  as  before,  stops,  looks  irresolutely  at  the 
card,  then  gets  rid  of  it  as  he  has  done  of  the  cigar  and  the  book. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  to  CHANTER,  nodding  at  his  pack. 

My  old  pack  ? 

CHANTER,  vague. 

Yours? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

The  one  we  generally  use. 

CHANTER. 

I    jUSt    Sent    OUt  tO    buy  it.       (Then  after  he  has  placed  the  cards  well 
in  evidence  on  the  table.)       Dudley  ! 

PAUL,  more  dryly,  coming  down. 

Sir? 

CHANTER. 

Will  you  do  me  a  favour?     You'll  find  on  the  table  in 
my  room — 

PAUL,  anxious,  as  CHANTER  pauses. 

I  shall  find—? 

CHANTER. 
A  flask  of  brandy. 


ACT    SECOND  319 

PAUL,  blank. 

What  shall  I  do  with  it  ? 

CHANTER. 
Anything  you  like  ! 

PAUL,  horrified. 

Captain,  have  mercy  on  me ! 

CHANTER. 

Then    bring    it    here    tO    me  !       (As  PAUL  looks  at  him  in  a  silent 
appeal,  he  adds.)       Do  get  it,  old  fellow  ! 

PAUL,  divided,  to  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE. 

Shall  I  get  it  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Oh,  /  don't  care  what  mamma  says  ! 

PAUL,  after  another  instant,  snapping  his  fingers. 

No  more  then  do  I ! 

Exit  PAUL  DOUBLEDAY  to  the  hall. 
MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  rising,  abrupt. 

Are  the  invitations  out  ? 

CHANTER. 
I  haven't  the  faintest  idea  what  you  mean  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

For  your  marriage  to  that  old  dragon. 


320  THE    REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 

I  suppose  I  may  keep  a  secret — after  discovering  that 
you've  nurtured  one  for  years. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

All  the  more  that  yours  is  so  horrid  !  Dudley  liked 
me,  and  I  liked  him,  and  I'm  not  ashamed  of  it.  I  was 
grateful  to  him  for  his  interest  in  my  voice. 

CHANTER,  sarcastic. 

Oh,  your  voice ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Don't  sniff  at  it — you  were  glad  enough  to  hear  it ! 

CHANTER. 

And  to  which  of  us,  this  morning,  have  you  come  here 
to  sing? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

You'll  understand  when  I  tell  you  that  though  last 
night  I  had  engaged  my  room  at  the  inn,  I  went  back 
to  town  for  my  music. 

CHANTER. 
Your  music  ? 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  yours  !     Your  notes  of  hand. 

CHANTER. 

The  stuff  I  wrote  you  ?  (Thinking.)  You  can't  make  a 
scene  with  my  letters  now. 


ACT    SECOND  321 

MRS.   FRESH VI LLE. 

Why  ain't  it  a  happy  moment  ? 

CHANTER. 

Simply  because  you'll  do  for  Dudley. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  don't  mind  that — if  I  do  for  you  ! 

CHANTER 
Where  are  the  few  lines  I  inadvertently  traced  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

There   are    enough   of  them   to   stuff  out   my   pocket. 

(As  he  looks  at  her,  up  and  down,  askance.)        You    needn't    CrOUCh 

for  a  spring — I'll  fight  for  them  ! 

CHANTER,  nervous,  throwing  away  his  cigar. 

You're  criminally  vulgar  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  often  think  it's  a  comfort !  But  I  feel  as  if  I  had  a 
small  family  in  my  pocket,  and  now  I  should  like  my 
reticule. 


CHANTER  goes  to  the  cupboard  on  the  right,  in  which  Mr.  BONSOR  has  placed 
the  reticule,  and  takes  it  out.  He  brings  it  to  her  and  she  receives  it  and 
opens  it.  She  pulls  out  BLANCHE'S  railway  novel,  which  Mr.  BONSOR  has 
put  into  it,  and  looks  at  the  book  with  surprise.  Then  she  flings  it  down 
on  the  table. 

That  book's  not  mine  ! 

VOL.  II  Y 


322  THE    REPROBATE 

CHANTER,  taking  up  the  book. 
Who's     is    it  ?        (Reading  the  name  on  the  title-page.)         Blanche 

Amber  ? 

MRS.    FRESH VI LLE,  who  has  fumbled  in  the  reticule,  in  dismay. 

And  the  photo's  gone  ! 

CHANTER. 
The  photo  ? 

J    MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  looking  about  her,  vexed. 

Dudley's ! 

CHANTER. 
Was  it  in  there  ? 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
I  carry  it  about. 

CHANTER. 
And  what  do  you  do  with  mine  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Lock  it  up  at  home  !     Where  is  the  confounded  thing  ? 

CHANTER,  still  with  BLANCHE'S  book. 

Some  one  obviously  sneaked  it. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  vague. 

Who  the  mischief — ? 

CHANTER. 

The  person  who  left  this  instead. 


ACT    SECOND  323 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE.- 

That  nasty  book  ?     Who  is  the  brute  ? 

CHANTER. 
The  brute  is  Miss  Blanche  Amber. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  recalling. 

The  girl  who  arrived  yesterday  ? 

CHANTER. 

Just  in  time  to  grab  it ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

The  one  who's  engaged  to  the  public  man  ? 

CHANTER. 

The   member   for    Blackport  ?      They're   not   engaged 
quite  yet. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

He's  awfully  spoony. 

CHANTER. 

Well,  she  isn't !     (After  a  moment.)     I'll  get  the  photograph 
back  from  her. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Very  good  of  you.     Get  it  immediately. 

CHANTER. 
You  must  give  me  time — she'll  cleave  to  it ! 


324  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Cleave  to  my  property — the  horrid  little  thief? 

CHANTER. 
You  must  allow  for  her  feelings  ! 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE,  vague. 
What  feelings,  pray  ? 

CHANTER. 

Why,  she's  in  love  with  him  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

With  Dudley  ?     Since  when  ? 

CHANTER,  with  assurance. 

Since  yesterday  !     He  makes  them  toe  the  mark  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Does  he  make  them  steal  ? 

CHANTER. 
He  makes  them  do  anything ! 

He  goes  up  rapidly  to  the  window  as  soon  as  he  has  spoken ;  while  Mrs. 
FRESHVILLE  sinks  slowly  again  into  the  chair  from  which  she  has  risen, 
and,  with  her  reticule  open  on  her  knees,  transfers  to  it  mechanically,  \vith 
an  air  of  intense  preoccupation,  one  by  one,  a  dozen  loose  letters  that  she 
has  taken  from  her  pocket.  She  takes  them  out  successively,  looking  at 
the  superscriptions. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  who  has  counted  the  letters  and  fastened  her  reticule. 

Thirteen,  and  five  telegrams  ! 


ACT    SECOND  325 

CHANTER,  who  has  stood  uneasily  at  the  window,  coming  down,  looking 
at  his  watch. 

Give  me  half  an  hour,  and  I'll  bring  you  the  photo  at 
the  inn  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  rising  again,  smiling,  with  the  reticule  on  her  arm. 

In  exchange  for  your  letters  ?     Too  dear  ! 

CHANTER. 

Oh,  bother  my  letters — do  what  you  like  with  them  ! 
Make  any  row  your  bad  taste  may  suggest,  but  for 
heaven's  sake  let  it  be  a  row  that  won't  hurt  Dudley  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
Hurt  him — how  ? 

CHANTER. 
By  showing  that  you  and  he  are  at  it  again  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

We  ain't  at  it  again  ! 

CHANTER. 

You  present  an  appearance  of  it  that  won't  improve  his 
situation. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
His  situation's  a  farce  ! 


CHANTER. 

So  it  is,  but  you  must  sit  the  farce  out. 


326  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

And  you  ?     Were  you  sitting  it  out  just  now  ? 

CHANTER. 
Oh,  I'm  in  the  performance. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
As  the  leading  villain  ?     You  corrupt  his  innocence  ? 

CHANTER. 

His  innocence  is  a  thin  veneer.  Scratch  the  Russian 
and  you  find  the  Tartar — scratch  Paul  and  you  find 
Dudley ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Well,  if  you  scratch  him  again  I'll  scratch  you,  I  can 
promise  you  ! 

CHANTER. 

I'm  weak  with  him — I  humour  him — I  spoil  him  :  all 
that  I  admit.  But  that's  nothing  compared  to  the 
mess  that  you'll  make  for  him  by  compromising  him. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  after  a  moment. 

You're  a  mass  of  deceit,  but  I  don't  see  what  you'll 
gain  by  not  bringing  me  the  photo. 

CHANTER,  pressing,  watchful. 

I  swear  to  you  I'll  bring  it  in  half  an  hour.  I  hear 
some  one  coming  ! 


ACT    SECOND  327 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  thinking. 

Poor  dear  old  Dud  !     (Then  to  CHANTER.)     It's  a  pity  you're 
such  a  fiend  ! 

CHANTER,  pleading,  feverish. 

Don't  you  be  one — don't  sacrifice  him  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  looking  at  her  watch. 

In  half  an  hour  ? 

CHANTER. 
To  the  minute  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
You're  unspeakable — but  I've  got  you  here  I     (She  slaps  her 

reticule  triumphantly  and  goes  up.) 

CHANTER,  who  is  up  before  her,  listening  by  the  door  of  the  hall  and 
checking  her. 

Wait ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  indicating  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 

I  won't  go  in  there  again  ! 

CHANTER,  passing  quickly  to  the  window. 

This  way  !     It's  an  escape  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  as  she  goes;  warning. 

Not  for  you  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  to  the  lawn. 
CHANTER,  alone,  exhausted  but  exultant. 

She  has    "  got "  me,  eh  ?     Not  quite  so  tight  as  I've 

got  her  ! 


328  THE    REPROBATE 

Re-enter  PAUL  DOUBLEDAY  from  the  hall  with  a  silver-mounted  travelling-flask. 
PAUL,  tossing  the  flask  down. 

There  ! 

CHANTER,  taking  it  up  and  shaking  it  as  he  smiles  at  PAUL. 

Vou  haven't  drunk  it  up  ? 

PAUL,  looking  about  him  after  a  gesture  of  disgusted  repudiation. 

She's  gone  ? 

CHANTER,  laying  the  flask  on  a  table. 

Thank  our  stars ! 

PAUL,  breaking  out. 

I  say,  you  know — what  are  you  up  to  ? 

CHANTER,  with  sudden  wild  gestures. 

I'm  in  a  fever — I'm  in  a  frenzy  :  my  head  goes  round  ! 

(As  PAUL  stares  at  him,  bewildered.)       I    don't    knOW  what  I  Say 

I  don't  know  what  I  do  ! 

PAUL,  after  a  moment. 

You  seem  indeed  in  an  extraordinary  position  ! 

CHANTER. 
Dudley,  I  throw  myself  on  your  mercy  ! 

PAUL. 

If  you  really  want  it,  don't  call  me  Dudley. 

CHANTER. 

I'll  call  you  anything  you  like  if  you'll  only  help  me. 


ACT    SECOND  329 

PAUL. 
How  on  earth  can  I  help  you  ? 

CHANTER. 

By  your  generous  influence.      I  was  an  ass  to  yield  to 

her! 

PAUL. 

To  yield  to  Mamma  ? 

CHANTER. 

No,  that  was  inevitable. 

PAUL. 

So  I've  always  found  it ! 

CHANTER. 

I  succumbed — originally — to  Nina. 

PAUL. 
It  wasn't  original !     Where  did  you  meet  her  ? 

CHANTER,  waving  away  inquiries. 

Oh,  in  society  !     She  has  my  written  vows. 

PAUL,  struck. 

I  wonder  if  she  has  mine  ! 

CHANTER. 

Oh,  yours  don't  matter  ! 

PAUL. 
Don't  they,  though  ! 


330  THE    REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 
They  shan't  matter,  Paul,  if  you'll  save  me  ! 

PAUL. 

How  on  earth  can  I  save  you  ? 

CHANTER. 
As  I  tell  you,  by  squaring  her. 

PAUL,  vague. 

Squaring  Mrs.  Doubleday  ? 

CHANTER. 
Squaring     Mrs.     FrCShville  !       (More  agitated  the  more  he  thinks.) 

It's  quite  too  awful ! 

PAUL,  considering. 

How  far  have  you  gone  with  her  ? 

CHANTER. 

With  Mrs.  Freshville  ?     Very  far  indeed.     I  once  went 
to  Brighton. 

PAUL. 
Oh,  /  went  to  Paris  ! 

CHANTER. 

I  know  you  did ;  so  you  can  feel  for  me  !     (Going  up.) 
Keep  her  quiet ! 

PAUL. 
Where  are  you  going  ? 


ACT    SECOND  331 

CHANTER,  with  wild  gestures. 


Away — away ! 


PAUL. 

Who  then  will  keep  me  quiet  ? 

CHANTER. 
You  mustn't  be  quiet ;  you  must  act ! 

PAUL,  staring,  wondering. 

Act? 

CHANTER. 

Save  me  !     By-bye  ! 

Exit  CHANTER  rapidly  to  the  hall. 
PAUL,  alone,  still  blank. 

That's  all  very  well ;  but  who'll  save  me  ?     (He  moves  about 

during  the  rest  of  his  soliloquy,  Jooking  round  him,  wonderingly,  interrogatively, 
as  he  sifts  his  situation  in  his  mind,  taking  up  successively  and  laying  down 
again  the  different  objects  he  mentions.)  I'm  in  dreadful  danger,  I 

suppose  !  I  must  be,  for  I'm  face  to  face  with  every- 
thing that,  for  years,  I've  been  taught  to  dread — have 

dreaded.        TobaCCO,  Cards,  wine,  (then  taking  up  the  French  novel) 

women  !  Here  they  are — all  in  a  row  !  (Looking  round  him.) 
The  real  thing — and  I'm  alone  with  them  !  I'm  therefore 
free,  ain't  I  ?  free  as  I  haven't  been  since —  Ah,  when 
was  it  ?  It  seems  only  yesterday ;  yet  it  seems  another 

life  !  (With  the  different  objects  again.)  Women,  wine,  Cards, 
tobaCCO  !  (As  he  tosses  the  cigar  into  the  box  again.)  Temptation, 

ain't  it  ?  Yes,  it  must  be :  what  else  can  it  be  ?  I'm 
tempted  !  The  danger's  right  here  at  last — the  danger 


332  THE    REPROBATE 

of  the  happy  chance  !  Well,  the  happy  chance  is  just 
what  I  can't  resist.  (After  a  moment.)  Is  it,  indeed  ?  Pray, 

Why  Can't    I  ?       (Standing  off  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  looking  at  the 

different  things.)  Because  I'm  the  slave  of  my  passions, 
and  my  passions,  alas,  are  awful !  (Taking  up  the  flask  of  liquor.) 
This,  for  instance — this  is  one  of  my  passions.  (He  has 

uncorked  the  flask  ;  he  smells  it.)       Do    I    yearn  for  it  ?       Somehow 

I  don't  feel  as  if  I  did !  Could  I  even  raise  it  to  my 
lips  ?  (After  an  instant.)  What's  the  matter  with  me  that  I 

Can't?         (Still   with   the   flask  in  his  hand.)         I'm     wicked I'll! 

weak — I  can't  be  trusted ;  and  yet  my  funny  fate  takes 
it  into  her  head  to  trust  me  !  She  treats  me  all  of  a 
sudden  with  flattering  confidence.  (Thinking.)  It  may 
be  a  trap  of  my  funny  fate.  But  if  it's  a  trap,  I  ain't 
caught !  I  am  resisting ;  I  have  resisted.  (Following  up 
his  induction.)  I  ain't  so  bad,  then,  now  ;  I  must  be  getting 

better  !  (Still  standing  with  the  uncorked  flask  in  his  hand,  he  sees  PITT 
BRUNT.  Re-enter  PITT  BRUNT  from  the  library ;  to  whom,  as  the  idea  last 
uttered  comes  over  him,  he  breaks  out  spontaneously,  joyously,  artlessly.)  I 

say,  Brunt,  I'm  getting  better  ! 


PITT  BRUNT,  with  his  pen  stuck  into  his  ear,  surprised  at  the  image  PAUL 
presents  with  his  i 
cated. 
center 


JUNT,  with  his  pen  stuck  into  his  ear,  surprised  at  the  image  PAUL 
ents  with  his  uncorked  flask,  approaches  him  as  if  supposing  him  intoxi- 
d.  He  takes  the  flask  from  him  and  smells  it ;  then,  in  horror  at  its 
ents,  replaces  it  in  his  hand,  looking  at  him  with  high  superiority. 


PITT  BRUNT. 

On  brandy  ?       (He  crosses  to  the  lower  door  on  the  right,  where  he  pauses 
an  instant  and  gives  PAUL  another  look  of  shocked  reprobation.)       Out    of 

the  very  bottles  ? 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 


ACT    SECOND  333 

PAUL,  alone,  stares,  reflects  a  moment,  then  corks  and  puts  down  his  flask 
with  a  sigh  of  resignation,  taking  up  mechanically  the  French  novel. 

No  one  will  ever  believe  it ! 

Re-enter  BLANCHE  AMBER  from  the  library. 
BLANCHE,  at  the  door. 

Are  you  still  alone  ? 

PAUL. 
More  alone  than  ever. 

BLANCHE. 

Then  I'll  come  in. 

PAUL. 

Do  ;  he  won't  mind  ! 

BLANCHE. 

Do  you  mean  the  member  for  Blackport  ? 

PAUL. 

Oh  no,  not  your  keeper.     Mine  ! 

BLANCHE. 
Mine  has  left  me  too ;  gone  to  my  uncle  for  an  idea. 

PAUL. 

Couldn't  you  give  him  one  ? 

BLANCHE. 

I  gave  him  twenty,  but  he  was  afraid  of  them  all. 

PAUL,  smiling. 

I  fancy  you've  some  terrible  ideas ;  eh,  Miss  Amber  ? 


334  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
Not  so  bad  as  some  of  yours,  Mr.  Paul ! 

PAUL. 
Oh,  you  exaggerate  mine  ! 

BLANCHE. 
Scarcely,  when  you've  confessed  to  so  many  ! 

PAUL,  embarrassed. 

Yes,  I've  made  a  clean  breast ! 

BLANCHE. 

Don't  dissimulate,  then  :  keep  it  up  ! 

PAUL,  vague. 

Keep  it  up  ? 

BLANCHE. 
Your  honourable  frankness.     Your  desperate  candour. 

PAUL. 

It  does  win  me  your  sympathy  ? 

BLANCHE. 
As  nothing  else  could  ! 

PAUL,  after  an  instant,  resolute. 

Then  I  will  keep  it  up. 

BLANCHE. 

There's  plenty  of  it,  whenever  you  require  it. 


ACT    SECOND  335 

PAUL. 

I  should  like  to  take  it  all,  and  keep  it  for  ever ! 

BLANCHE,  smiling. 
Take  it  in  instalments — a  dose  every  day. 

PAUL. 

Then  such  a  person  as  me  isn't  repulsive  to  you  ? 

BLANCHE. 
Repulsive — in  your  lonely  grandeur  ? 

PAUL. 

— > 
Oh,  Miss  Amber,  I'm  lonely,  but  I'm  not  particularly 

grand !  I'm  a  kind  of  moral  leper,  with  a  warning  cow- 
bell round  my  neck.  It's  the  solitude  of  misfortune. 

BLANCHE. 

It's  better  than  the  rush  and  crush  of  vulgar  happiness. 
Do  you  know  what  you  remind  me  of? 

PAUL. 

Of  any  victim  of  fatality,  I  suppose — any  freak  of  nature 
or  melancholy  monster :  the  pig-faced  lady  or  the  pie- 
bald man  ! 

BLANCHE. 

You  remind  me  of  some  great  wide-winged,  wounded 

bird! 

PAUL. 

Do  you  feel  like  the  sportsman  who  has  brought  him 
down  ?  Do  you  want  to  keep  me  as  a  trophy  ? 


336  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 

Stuffed — in  a  glass  case?  No,  I  want  you  living;  I 
want  you  fluttering ;  I  want  you  perched  on  your  rock, 
at  least,  if  you  must  be  tied  to  it ! 

PAUL. 

Dear  Miss  Amber,  I'll  perch  anywhere,  if  you'll  perch 
near  me  !  I  hope  you've  come  here  to  stay. 

BLANCHE. 

I'll  stay  as  long  as  you  hold  out.  But  I  said  to  you  a 
while  ago  that  I  would  tell  you  what  to  do  in  case  at 
last  you  can't. 

PAUL. 

I  can  scarcely  hold  out  now. 

BLANCHE. 

Then  give  in  ! 

PAUL,  agitated. 

Give  in  ? 

BLANCHE. 
If  you  must  slip  up — 

PAUL,  as  she  hesitates. 

If  I  must  ? 

BLANCHE. 
DO    it    immensely!       (Then  as  for  the  first  time  she' becomes  conscious  of 

the  book  in  his  hand.)     But  it  seems  to  me  you  have  slipped  up ! 


ACT    SECOND  337 

PAUL,  who  has  put  the  book  quickly  behind  him. 

Immensely  ! 

BLANCHE. 
Zola? 

PAUL,  producing  the  book. 

Zola! 

BLANCHE,  compassionate 

Your  Mentor  failed  you — and  you  fell  ? 

PAUL. 
To  where  you  find  me  ! 

BLANCHE. 

In  an  hour  ? 

PAUL. 
In  a  minute  ! 

BLANCHE,  who  has  taken  the  book  from  him  an  instant,  giving  it  back. 

Even  to  that  ? 

PAUL,  flinging  it  down. 

Even  to  that ! 

BLANCHE,  looking  round  her  and  seeing  the  flask,  which  she  takes  up. 

And  to  this  ? 

PAUL. 
To  that  too. 

BLANCHE,  with  the  pack  of  cards. 

And  to  this  ? 

VOL.   II  Z 


338  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
Also  to  that ! 

BLANCHE,  with  a  cigar. 

And  to  this  ? 

PAUL. 

To  everything  ! 

BLANCHE,  with  exultation. 

There's  something  magnificent  in  it ! 

PAUL,  seeing  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY,  who  has  appeared  at  the  entrance  from  the  hall. 

If  you  could  only  make  Mamma  think  so  ! 

Re-enter  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  with  several  sealed  and  directed  letters. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  sniffing  the  air  as  she  comes  down. 
TobaCCO  ?       (To  BLANCHE,  as  she  tosses  down  her  cigar.)       Are    yOU 

smoking  with  him  ? 

BLANCHE,  deciding  and  indicating  the  flask  after  an  instant  during  which 
Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  peremptorily  rings  the  bell. 

YeS and    drinking  !         (Then  indicating  each  of  the  other  objects.) 

And  gambling  !     And  reading  a  dreadful  book. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  seeing  the  name  as  BLANCHE  waves  the  book. 

Zola? 

BLANCHE. 
Zola! 

PAUL. 

Dear    mamma  —  it's    Miss    Amber's    German    humour. 
She  has  but  this  moment  come  into  the  room  ! 


ACT    SECOND 

BLANCHE. 
To  take  the  place  of  Captain  Chanter. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  looking  from  one  of  them  to  the  other. 

Where  is  Captain  Chanter  ? 

PAUL,  privately  to  BLANCHE. 

Don't  tell  her ! 

BLANCHE. 
Then  you  tell  her  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  to  PAUL  ;  formidable. 

Does  he  neglect  you  ? 

PAUL,  alert. 

Dear  no,  I  shouldn't  call  it  neglect ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Then  why  isn't  he  here  ? 

Re-enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall. 
CUBIT. 

Did  you  ring,  ma'am? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

Stamp  these  letters. 


PAUL,  privately  to  BLANCHE,  while  Cubit  takes  the  letters  from  Mrs. 
DOUBLEDAY. 

She'll  repudiate  him  ! 


339 


340  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 


It  will  serve  him  right. 


PAUL. 


It  will  serve   me  wrong !      (To  himself.)      I'll  save    him  ! 

(Then  as  Mrs.   DOUBLEDAY  turns  to  him  again  for  an  answer  while  CUBIT 
stamps  letters  at  one  of  the  tables.)       I  turned  the  Captain  OUt  ! 

BLANCHE,  to  herself. 

You  darling ! 

PAUL. 
I  got  so  bad — he  fled  in  horror ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

He  couldn't  stand  you  ? 

PAUL. 

He  couldn't  stand  me  ! 

Re-enter  Mr.  BONSOR  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right,  while  BLANCHE  goes 
up  in  agitation. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  dismayed,  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

He  couldn't  stand  him  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  dismayed. 

The  Captain  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

He  fled  in  horror  ! 

PAUL,  ecstatic. 

And  I've  had  at  last  an  hour  of  freedom  ! 


ACT    SECOND  341 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  showing  Mr.  BONSOR  all  the  dreadful  signs. 

An  hour  of  freedom  ! 

BLANCHE,  coming  round  and  down  on  the  right  to  PAUL. 

You're  simply  sublime  !     (She  goes  up  again.) 

PAUL,  to  himself. 

I'm  saving  him  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  to  CUBIT. 

Have  you  seen  Captain  Chanter  ? 

CUBIT,  with  his  letters  stamped. 

I  think  he  left  the  house,  ma'am. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  excited. 

Then  pursue  him.    (imperious,  as  CUBIT  stands.)    Look  for  him! 

CUBIT,  at  a  loss. 

Where,  ma'am,  shall  I  look? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  frantic,  hurrying  up. 

/'//  look  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  to  the  hall. 
MR.    BONSOR,  to  CUBIT,  who  is  going. 

Whose  letters  are  those  ? 

CUBIT. 
Mrs.  Doubleday's,  sir. 


342  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.    BONSOR,  austere. 

Don't  post  them.  They  are  to  announce  a  marriage 
which  will  probably  not  take  place. 

PAUL,  at  the  left,  privately,  with  decision,  to  BLANCHE,  who  has  come  down 
again  on  his  left. 

It  shall  take  place  !  (He  surreptitiously  catches  her  right  hand  with 
his  left  and  gives  it  a  shake  which  she  surreptitiously  returns  —  a  movement 
perceived  by  Mr.  BONSOR.) 

MR.   BONSOR,  going  up. 
Blanche ! 

She  quickly  joins  him,  and,  after  a  few  words,  when  they  have  gone  up,  he 
appears  to  dismiss  her  disapprovingly.     Exit  BLANCHE  to  the  hall. 

PAUL,  while  this  takes  place. 
Cubit  !       (Then,  as  CUBIT,  with  the  letters,  comes  to  him.)       Post  them  ! 

CUBIT. 

But  Mr.  Bonsor — 

PAUL. 

Hang  Mr.  Bonsor  ! 

CUBIT,  astounded  ;  then,  with  a  gesture,  smiling  and  taking  another  line. 

What'll  you  give  me  ? 

PAUL. 

For  hanging  Mr.  BonSOr  ?  (Taking  from  his  waistcoat-pocket  the 
money  CHANTER  has  given  him.)  This  ! 

CUBIT,  with  the  money. 

Five  shillings  ?     (Delighted.)     I'll  post  them  ! 

Exit  CUBIT  to  the  hall. 


ACT    SECOND  343 

MR.    BONSOR,  stern,  coming  down  to  PAUL. 

Are  you  intoxicated  ? 

PAUL,  with  an  exhilaration,  a  familiarity,  wholly  new  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

Dear  Mr.  Bonsor,  I  never  was  so  lucid  in  all  the  whole 
course  of  my  existence  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  struck,  and  with  his  suspicions  confirmed  by  PAUL'S  manner 

and  tone,  seeing  PITT  BRUNT  :  re-enter  PITT  BRUNT  by  lower  door  on 

the  right. 

He's  simply  dead  drunk  ! 

PITT  BRUNT 

I'm  perfectly  aware  !     I  rejoin  Miss  Amber. 

MR.    BONSOR,  indicating  the  hall. 

She's  in  the  morning-room. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Shall  I  apprise  her  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  complacent. 

Shes  perfectly  aware. 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT  to  the  hall.    Re-enter  Captain  CHANTER  from  the  lawn. 
MR.    BONSOR,  eager,  to  CHANTER. 

Do  you  know  he's  dead  drunk  ? 

CHANTER,  coming  down  with  his  hat  on— a  little  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

Intimately  ! 


344  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.    BONSOR. 

You  couldn't  stand  him  ? 

PAUL,  at  whom  CHANTER  has  looked  ;  privately. 

I  told  them  you  couldn't ! 

CHANTER,  with  assurance 

I  couldn't  stand  him  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  heroical. 

Well,  /can! 

CHANTER. 

But  I've  pulled  myself  together  again.     I  can  now. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
It's  a  very  dreadful  sight. 

CHANTER. 
To  the  pure  all  things  are  pure  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Then  they're  pure  to  me  !     I'll  take  him  myself. 

CHANTER,  uneasy,  protesting. 

Ah  no — I've  my  rules  to  enforce  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
You  told  me  I  must  rest.      You  must. 

CHANTER. 

I  have  rested ! 


ACT    SECOND  345 

MR.    BONSOR,  looking  at  PAUL  a  mement,  then  reconsidering,  deciding. 

I'll  take  him  when  he  has  slept  it  off! 

Exit  Mr.  BONSOR  to  the  hall. 
CHANTER,  eager,  hopeful,  to  PAUL. 

Are  you  dead  drunk  ? 

PAUL. 

Yes — with  the  sense  of  freedom  ! 


CHANTER. 

That'll  do — if  you'll  save  me  ! 

PAUL. 

I  am  saving  you  ! 

CHANTER. 

Now's  your  time,  then — she's  coming  back  ! 

PAUL,  visibly  disconcerted. 

Nina  ? 

CHANTER. 

I  saw  her  on  the  bridge — she  followed  me.     (Seeing  Mrs. 

FRESHVILLE  at  the  window.)       Here  she  IS  ! 


Exit  CHANTER  rapidly  to  the  library.     Re-enter  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  from 
the  garden. 


MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Was  that  the  Captain  who  left  you  ? 

PAUL. 

Yes — do  you  want  him  ? 


346  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  with  resolution. 

No  !     (After  an  instant.)      That's  what   I've  come  back   to 
tell  you  ! 

PAUL,  civil,  but  vague. 

Very  good  of  you  to  come  back ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  with  sudden  intensity. 

Dudley — my  feelings  dragged  me  !     I  don't  want  any 
one  in  the  world  if  I  can  only  get  you  ! 

PAUL,  confused. 

Me,  Nina? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
My  earliest  friend — my  most  generous — and  my  best ! 

PAUL,  embarrassed. 

My  dear  Nina,  do  I  understand  that  you  desire  to  make 
me  your  husband  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

That's  the  description  of  you  that  I  confess  I  should 
find  it  most  convenient  to  be  able  to  give. 

PAUL. 
But  isn't  your  proposal  rather  rashly  precipitate  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Precipitate — when  for  years  I've  loved  you  in  silence  ? 
That  silence,  when  I  see  you,  I  naturally  break  ! 


ACT    SECOND  347 

PAUL. 

But  I  thought  the  object  of  your  affection  was  our 
whimsical  friend  the  Captain. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

So  did  I,  till  I  perceived  that  I  was  fundamentally  mis- 
taken. The  Captain,  though  whimsical,  is  attractive ; 
but  he  has  no  heart.  You  have  a  heart,  Dudley. 

PAUL. 
Ah,  but  it  doesn't  make  me  attractive  !     Nothing  can  I 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Your  situation  can — your  situation  does.     You  suffer. 

PAUL. 

Oh,  I  can  bear  it ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  can't  then — when  you're  a  captive  ! 

PAUL. 
Captivity  has  changed  me — I'm  not  what  I  was  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Never    mind   what    you    were  —  you'll    do   very   well. 
You're  still  young — you're  still  charming — you're .  still— 
free. 

PAUL. 
Free  ?     Why,  you  recognise  yourself  that  I'm  bound  ! 


348  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  suspicious,  seizing  his  arm. 

"  Bound  " — to  whom  ? 

PAUL,  after  an  instant. 

No  one— in  the  way  you  mean  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Then  come  to  Paris  ! 

PAUL,  moved. 

To  Paris  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

To  the  Alcazar ! 

PAUL,  struck,  thinking. 

The  Eldorado  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 
The  Valentino ! 

PAUL. 

The  Solferino  ?     (After  a  moment.)     Too  late  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  resentful. 

Too  late  ?     It  isn't  too  late  for  me  to  chivey  your  photo- 
graph about ! 

PAUL,  vague. 

My  photograph  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  indicating  her  reticule. 

In  this  thing — wherever  I  go !     (Abrupt.)     Dudley,  who 
stole  it  ? 


ACT    SECOND  349 

PAUL,  blank. 

I  haven't  the  least  idea ! 

MRS.   FRESH VI LLE. 

Then  /  have  ! 

PAUL. 
Who  in  the  world  ? 

MRS.    FRESH VILLE,  reconsidering. 

I'll  tell  you  when  we're  married  ! 

PAUL. 

Dear  Nina,  marriage  is  a  serious  step — a  step  to  think 
well  over. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

We'll  think  it  well  over — together  ! 

PAUL. 
Give  me  more  time,  Nina  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

How  much  more  do  you  want  ? 

PAUL,  after  an  instant. 

Why,  say  till  to-morrow. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Then  to-morrow  I'll  rush  to  you. 

PAUL. 

Thank  you — I'll  rush  to  you. 


350  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

At  the  inn  ?     Will  they  let  you  ? 

PAUL,  after  reflection,  with  extreme  resolution. 

I  won't  ask  them  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  irrepressible,  triumphant. 

Ah,  I've  got  you  ! 

PAUL,  struck,  wondering. 

Have  you,  Nina? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  with  a  laugh. 

Don't  look  at  me  as  if  I  had  said  I'd  got  the  measles  ! 
Look  at  me  as  if  you  really  remembered — 

PAUL,  as  she  hesitates. 

Remembered,  Nina? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

That  I'm  a  dear  good  soul. 

PAUL. 

You  are,  Nina. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

And  that  I  give  you  a  radical  change. 

PAUL. 

You  do,  Nina.     By-bye. 


ACT    SECOND  351 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

By-bye.        (She  goes  up  and  then  comes  down  again,  while  he  stands  lost 
in  thought.)      Just  look  here,   Dud.       (Then  after  an  instant.)      Why 

arrangements  ? 

PAUL,  vague. 

Arrangements  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

What  you  call  preliminaries.     Fly  with  me  without  'em  ! 
The  preliminaries  can  follow. 

PAUL,  vague. 

Do  you  allude  to  our  luggage  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  laughing. 

You  are  a  daisy  !     Let  me  pluck  you  now  ! 

PAUL,  rueful,  unready. 

This  moment? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

You  shrink — you  desire  some  regular  form  ? 

PAUL. 

I've  been  taught  in  all  these  years  that  some  regular 
form  is  proper. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Then  we'll  have  one — for  you  !     And  we'll  see  about  it 

tO-morrOW.       (At  the  window,  smiling,  bantering.)       Propriety  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  to  the  lawn. 


352  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL,  as  he  sees  CHANTER. 

Poor  old  Nina  ! 

Re-enter  Captain  CHANTER  from  the  library. 

CHANTER,  who  has  looked  in  first  cautiously  and  speaks  in  a  loud, 
eager  whisper. 

Well? 

PAUL. 
She  wants  me  to  go  to  Paris  ! 

CHANTER. 
Then  why  the  deuce  don't  you  ? 

PAUL. 
Because  I  don't  want  to  ! 

CHANTER,  blank,  vexed. 

Don't  "  want "  to  ? 

PAUL,  excited. 

Not  the  least  bit  in  the  world  ! 

CHANTER. 

Then  you  ought  to  want  to  ! 

PAUL. 

Isn't  that  just  my  difficulty — that   I  don't  do  what  I 
ought  ? 

CHANTER. 

I'm  here  to  make  you.     You're  free  ! 


ACT    SECOND  353 

PAUL,  passing  his  hand  over  his  head. 

That's  just  where  it  is  ! — I'm  free !     She  wants  me  to 
fly  with  her. 

CHANTER. 

Don't  stand  pottering,  then.     Fly  ! 

PAUL. 
I  carft  fly ! 

CHANTER,  trying  to  push  him  off. 

You  must ! 

PAUL,  disengaging  himself  with  a  flare  of  passion,  and  coming  round  and  down. 

I  won't ! 

CHANTER. 

What  the  devil's  the  matter  with  you  ? 

PAUL. 
I  don't  know,  Captain  !    I  ain't  so  bad — I  ain't  tempted  ! 

CHANTER,  indignant. 

You  are  tempted  ! 

PAUL. 
Then  I  resist ! 

CHANTER,  furious. 

Wretch  ! 

Re-enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall. 
CUBIT,  to  CHANTER.  ' 

Mrs.  Doubleday's  quite  wild,  sir. 

VOL.   II  2  A 


354  THE    REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 
I     gO    tO     her.         (To  PAUL,  privately,  with  concentrated  urgency,  as  he 

goes  up.)     Nina's  a  revelation  !     Try  her  ! 

Exit  Captain  CHANTER  to  the  hall. 
CUBIT,  to  PAUL. 

Letters  gone,  sir  ! 

PAUL,  with  rising  spirit. 

Well,  I  ain't,  old  man,  am  I  ? 

CUBIT,  surprised,  gratified. 

No  indeed,  sir ;  you  seem  quite  on  the  spot ! 

Exit  CUBIT  to  the  hall. 

PAUL,  alone,  echoing,  with  the  sense  of  his  victory  growing  stronger,  over- 
whelming him  at  last. 

"  Nina's  a  revelation"?  There  are  other  revelations  than 
Nina  !  "  Try  her  "  ?  I  don't  want  to  try  her  !  I  don't 
want  to  try  anybody  !  (Looking  about  him.)  I  don't  want  to 

do    anything  !       (Drops  into  the  chair  on  the  right  of  the  table.)       What 

is  the  matter  with  me  ?     I  am  free  and  I  ain't   bad  ! 

Upon    my    honour  (rising  slowly  with  the  force  of  the  revelation  and 

the  surprise)   I   believe  that,  after  all — it's  awfully  queer 

(pauses  a  moment,  then  drops  back  into  the  chair) Upon  my  honour, 

I'm  good .' 


ACT    THIRD 

MR  BONSOR'S  drawing-room.  BLANCHE  AMBER  comes  in  from  the 
hall,  meeting  PITT  BRUNT,  dressed  in  the  same  manner  as  at  the 
beginning  of  Act  First,  who  comes  in  from  the  garden. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Dear  Miss  Amber,  I'm  delighted  to  put  in  a  few  minutes 
with  you — my  solitude,  since  luncheon,  has  been  posi- 
tively uncanny. 

BLANCHE. 

Haven't  you  had  my  uncle  to  comfort  you  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

There's  no  comfort  in  your  uncle,  now  that  Mr. 
Doubleday  has  disappeared  ! 

BLANCHE. 

Isn't  there  any  in  Mrs.  Doubleday — exhilarated  by  the 
triumph  of  her  charms  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

She  buries  her  charms  at  the  railway-station — waiting 
for  the  fugitive  to  alight ! 


356  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE,  disappointed. 

You  don't  mean  to  say  he  returns  so  soon  ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  don't  know,  dear  Miss  Amber,  what  you  call  "  soon." 
(Looking  at  his  watch.)  A  debauch  of  twenty  hours  ! 

BLANCHE. 
Why,  he  went  for  at  least  sixty ! 

PITT   BRUNT,  surprised. 

Did  he  communicate  to  you  his  programme  ? 

BLANCHE. 

It  was  impossible  —  yesterday  afternoon  —  to  remain 
.gnorant  of  his  condition. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Indeed  it  was  ! 

BLANCHE. 

When  he  was  missed  —  I  understood.  I  know  that 
when  such  natures  fall — 

PITT  BRUNT. 

They  fall  to  the  very  bottom  ?  I've  no  doubt  whatever 
that  he's  as  far  down  as  you  can  go.  Fortunately 
Captain  Chanter  has  been  let  down  after  him. 

BLANCHE. 

By  a  rope  round  the  waist — to  pull  him  out  ?  I  per- 
fectly know  for  what  purpose  he  followed  Mr.  Paul  to 
London. 


ACT    THIRD  357 

PITT  BRUNT. 

The  engagement  he  had  conscientiously  taken  left  him 
no  alternative,  and  he  surmounted  the  repugnance  he 
naturally  felt.  When  he  brings  the  culprit  back  we 
shall  clear  up  the  mystery  of  where  the  money  came 
from — the  money  for  Doubleday's  fare. 

BLANCHE. 
By  the  train  to  town  ?     It  was  only  two  shillings. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

He  had  no  such  amount  in  his  possession.  We  are 
reluctantly  driven  to  the  belief  that  he  stole  the  two 
shillings. 

BLANCHE,  indignant. 

Your  belief's  a  false  belief !     He  didn't ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  money  for  the  other  excesses  that 
were  his  objective.  You  admitted  just  now  that  such 
natures  sink  to  the  bottom.  Well,  the  bottom  is  theft ! 

BLANCHE. 
Then  he  stopped  half-way.     He  borrowed  the  money. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

From  whom,  pray — since  the  very  servants  have  been 
examined  ?  (Then  as  she  remains  silent.)  Will  you  accompany 
me  on  the  river  ?  I  put  in  an  hour  each  day,  and  my 
hour  has  come  round. 


358  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 

Your  hour  may  have  come  round,  Mr.  Brunt,  but  your 
humble  servant  hasn't.  You  don't  take  the  right  way  to 
make  her ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I'll  take  it  in  the  boat.  (Confident,  engaging.)  You  see  if  I 
don't ! 

BLANCHE,  impatient. 

**~^ 

Ah,  your  boat's  not  my  boat,  and  it's  impossible  for  me 
to  embark  with  you  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  more  pressing. 

I  want  you  to  embark,  you  know,  on  the  river  of  life ; 
to  float  with  me  down  the  crystal  stream — 

BLANCHE. 

That  flows  into  the  Smutt  at  Blackport  ?  I  don't  find 
that  a  tempting  voyage  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  as  Mr.  BONSOR  appears. 

Only  give  me  a  chance  to  point  you  out  the  beauties  ! 

Enter  Mr.  BONSOR  from  the  hall. 
MR.    BONSOR,  encouraging. 

Ah,  you're  pointing  out  to  Miss  Amber  the  beauties  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Even  as  you  have  pointed  them  out  to  me  I 


ACT    THIRD  359 

BLANCHE,  at  the  door  of  the  library ;  with  a  curtsey. 

I  must  leave  you  to  discuss  them  together  ! 

Exit  BLANCHE  AMBER. 
PITT  BRUNT. 

She  won't  come  out  with  me  in  the  boat. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

The  best  place  to  command  her  attention,  as  I  instructed 
you. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  seek  in  vain,  Mr.  Bonsor,  to  command  her  attention 
or  to  carry  out  your  instructions. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

They  seem  indeed,  in  the  light  of  the  present  crisis,  to 

have   been  singularly  futile!       (Then  seeing  CUBIT  with  a  telegram.) 

I  tremble  at  every  telegram  ! 

Enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall. 
CUBIT,  as  Mr.  BONSOR  takes  the  telegram  from  his  tray. 

The  ninth,  sir  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  opening  the  telegram. 

The  Captain  reports  to  us  from  hour  to  hour  his  alter- 
nations of  confidence  and  despair. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  hope  this  time  it's  confidence. 

MR.    BONSOR,  who  has  read. 

Despair ! 


360  THE    REPROBATE 

CUBIT,  as  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  appears  ;  announcing. 
Mrs.     Doubleday  !        (Enter  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY,  in  her  bonnet,  from  the 

garden.)    Despair,  ma'am  ! 

Exit  CUBIT  to  the  hall. 
MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  agitated. 

Despair  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  reading. 

"  Last  hope  dashed — evidently  sunk  to  bottom." 

PITT  BRUNT. 
Sunk  to  bottom  !     That's  what  Miss  Amber  says. 

MR.  BONSOR,  struck. 
She  admits  it — she  expresses  it  ?     Then  follow  that  up  ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 
In  the  library  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

In  the  boat. 

PITT  BRUNT. 
But  if  she  won't  enter  the  boat  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  after  an  instant. 

I'll  see  her  on  board. 

PITT  BRUNT,  at  the  door  of  the  library. 

I'll  detain  her  till  you're  free. 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT. 
MRS.  DOUBLEDAY. 
Do  you  propose  to  carry  her  on  board  ? 


ACT   THIRD  361 

MR.   BONSOR. 
It  may  come  to  that ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  injured. 

You  might  take  a  little  less  interest  in  Miss  Amber's 
marriage — ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

And  a  little  more  interest  in  yours?     I  consider  that 
you  should  make  a  condition. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  vague. 

For  the  retention  of  my  hand  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

The  success  of  the  Captain's  pursuit.     He  must  bring 
Paul  back. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

But  if  Paul  has  sunk  lower  than  any  sounding? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

The  Captain  requires  the  equipment  of  a  diver ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  decided. 

We'll  have  no  more  diving :  he  must  come  back  without 
him  !     Paul  will  have  dropped  to  his  natural  level. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

You  allude  to  the  supposed  companion   of  his  orgy? 
That  she  is  his  companion  is  after  all  but  an  hypothesis. 


362  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

An  hypothesis  for  which  the  evidence  is  crushing.  It 
was  the  ground  for  the  Captain's  action  —  an  action 
admirably  prompt. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
Oh  yes,  when  the  horse  was  stolen  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

If  the  horse  is  stolen,  there  are  consolations.  For 
really,  to  receive  Paul — 

MR.   BONSOR,  as  she  falters. 

From  the  arms  of  such  a  creature  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
Would  cost  me  more  than  I  can  say  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

I  would  protect  you  by  receiving  him  first — I  would 
pump  him  dry. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

I  should  feel  as  if  he  would  never  be  dry  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

We  should  have  doubtless  more  than  ever,  in  our 
intercourse  with  him,  to  make  use  of  the  moral 
mackintosh. 

MRS.   DOUDLEDAY. 

I  impressed  upon  Captain  Chanter  from  the  first  the 
necessity  of  such  a  garment. 


ACT    THIRD  363 

MR.   BONSOR. 
However,  since  he  has  muffed  his  catch — 


MRS.    DOUBLED  AY,  with  asperity. 

Why  the  dickens  doesn't  he  come  back?     (Up  at  the  long 
window.)     I'll  wire  that  question  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAV. 

MR.    BONSOR,  alone,  surprised. 

Not,  I  hope,  in  those  words  !       (Then  as  he  sees  BLANCHE:  re-enter 
BLANCHE  AMBER  from  the  library.)      Mr.   Brunt's  gone  without  VOU  ? 

BLANCHE. 

No,  dear  uncle ;  he's  in  there. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
And  what's  he  doing  ? 

BLANCHE. 
When  I  left  him  he  was  making  a  speech. 

MR.    BONSOR,  struck ;  at  the  door  of  the  library. 

On  what  subject? 

BLANCHE. 
Try  to  make  out ! 


MR.   BONSOR,  as  he  listens,  with  his  eyes  on  BLANCHE  and  an  admonitory 
motion. 

Hear,  hear ! 

Exit  rapidly  Mr.  BONSOR. 


364  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE,  joyous,  as  she  sees  PAUL. 

Ah,  what  a  blessed  change  ! 

Enter  PAUL  DOUBLEDAY  from  the  hall ;  with  a  complete  transformation  of 
appearance,  expression,  demeanour.  He  is  bright,  confident,  assured,  and 
dressed  in  the  height  of  the  fashion  ;  with  flowers  in  his  buttonhole,  his 
moustache  bravely  curled,  his  high  hat,  of  a  striking  shape,  gallantly  worn. 
He  carries  in  his  hand  a  magnificent  bouquet,  and  is  followed  by  CUBIT, 
who  bears  an  armful  of  parcels. 

PAUL,  in  high  spirits. 

Dispose  them  on  the  table,  Cubit,  and  treat  them  with 
respect — they're  the  spoils  of  a  great  campaign  ! 

CUBIT. 

And  what  shall  I  give  the  cabman  ? 

PAUL. 
Give  him  my  blessing  ! 

CUBIT. 
I'm  afraid  he  won't  go  for  that,  sir. 

PAUL. 
If  he  won't  go  he  can  stay  ! 

CUBIT,  scandalised. 

At  half-a-crown  an  hour  ? 

PAUL. 
2  stayed  for  less,  Cubit — all  those  years. 

CUBIT,  deprecating. 

Oh  you,  Mr.  Paul — ! 


ACT    THIRD  365 

PAUL. 

Well,  I  wasn't  such  a  fool  as  we  thought ! 

BLANCHE,  who  has  produced  her  portemonnaie ;  giving  CUBIT  a  coin. 

Dismiss  the  cab. 

CUBIT,  with  the  money. 

And  bring  back  the  change  ? 

BLANCHE. 
Keep  the  change. 

CUBIT,  to  himself. 

Seven-and-six ! 

Exit  CUBIT  to  the  hall. 
PAUL,  who  has  dashed  at  BLANCHE  to  kiss  her  hand. 

Has  my  absence  excited  remark? 

BLANCHE. 
It  has  been  the  only  subject  of  our  conversation. 

PAUL. 

Have  you  mentioned,  in  the  course  of  that  conversation, 
the  motive  of  my  little  break  ? 

BLANCHE,  smiling. 

How  can  I  have  mentioned  it  when  I  haven't  known  it  ? 

PAUL,  surprised. 

Didn't  I  make  it  clear —  ? 


366  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
When  I  rejoined  you  in  the  garden — after  your  fall  ? 

PAUL,  oblivious. 

My  fall  ? 

BLANCHE. 


Why,  to  the  old  wild  life. 


PAUL,  prompt,  perfunctory. 

Oh  yes,  the  old  wild  life  ! 

BLANCHE. 
I  don't  strike  a  man  when  he's  down. 

PAUL. 
Certainly,   I  forgot I'm  down  !       (Offering  his  bouquet ;  smiling.) 

And  I  gathered  on  my  way  down  this  handful  of  flowers. 

BLANCHE,  with  the  bouquet. 

Flowers  as  wild  as  yourself? — flowers  of  folly,  flowers 
of  passion  ?  (inhaling  their  odour.)  They're  sweet  —  but 
ought  I  to  say  so  ? 

PAUL. 

Why  not  ? — I  got  them  in  Baker  Street.  (Then  as  BLANCHE 
looks  disconcerted.)  A  jolly  good  shop— r-with  an  awfully 
pretty  girl. 

BLANCHE,  more  reassured  ;  after  an  instant. 

Perhaps  you  had  better  not  tell  me  about  people  of 
that  sort.  I  don't  wish  to  draw  you  out. 


ACT    THIRD  367 

PAUL. 
I    366.       (Then  after  an  instant.)       But    perhaps    yOU    think    I'm 

worse  than  I  am  ! 

BLANCHE. 

Not  worse  than  you  were  when  you  let  everything  go. 

PAUL. 
When — and  where — did  I  let  anything  go  ? 

BLANCHE. 

Why,  yesterday  afternoon,  in  the  garden,  as  I  say,  when 
you  finally  told  me  you  must  get  off  by  yourself. 

PAUL. 

For  the  first  time  for  such  an  age  ? 

BLANCHE. 

You  declared  you  must  go  up  to  town. 

PAUL. 
Precisely,  for  a  little  change. 

BLANCHE. 

You  disguised  your  necessity  under  a  singular  expression. 

PAUL. 
I  said  I  must  take  a  look  round  ? — Well,  I  took  a  look. 

BLANCHE,  prompt. 

Oh,  you  needn't  tell  me  what  you've  seen  ! 


368  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL,  bringing  a  parcel  from  the  table. 

I  saw  some  bonbons  in  Bond  Street — and  brought  you 
a  box. 

BLANCHE,  with  the  box. 

Was  there  a  pretty  girl  in  that  shop  too  ? 

PAUL,  laughing. 
Oh    yes,    tWO    Or    three  !       (Then  showing  a  small  parcel.)       I    got 

something  else,  you  see — as  a  present  to  Mamma. 

BLANCHE. 
Well,  you've  certainly  made  the  money  fly  ! 

PAUL. 

All  over  the  place  !     Why  shouldn't  I — hang  it ! — if  I 
happen  to  feel  flush  ? 

BLANCHE,  struck. 

Isn't  that  the  old  wild  tone  ? 

PAUL. 

I  daresay  it  is,  the  devil  take  it ! 

BLANCHE,  alert. 

There  it  is  again  ! 

PAUL. 

It  seems  as  if  it  had  come  to  stay,  doesn't  it  ? 

BLANCHE. 

We  mustn't  let  it  stay  any  longer  than  it  positively  must. 
Remember  that  I'm  fighting  on  your  side. 


ACT    THIRD  369 

PAUL,  laughing. 

Dear  Miss  Amber,  you're  even  more  adorable,  upon  my 
word,  than  when  you  first  took  service  under  my  flag ! 

BLANCHE. 

You  mustn't  say  such  things  to  me  till  you've  recovered. 

PAUL. 

That  I've  recovered  is  precisely  what's  the  matter  with 
me  ! 

BLANCHE,  vague. 

Do  you  mean  from  the  effects  of  yesterday  ? 

PAUL. 

I  mean  from  the  effects  of  these  ten  years.     (Reckless.) 
My  dear  girl,  confound  it,  you  know,  I'm  all  right ! 

BLANCHE,  disappointed. 

Already  ? 

PAUL. 

Surely  it  has  taken  long  enough. 

BLANCHE. 

Not  long  enough  for  me,     (After  an  instant.)     I  don't  care 
for  saints  !     There's  one  at  me  already. 

PAUL. 

The  member  for  Blackport  ?     (Prompt.)     Oh,  I'm  not  so 
good  as  he  ! 

.BLANCHE. 

If  you  were  you'd  be  too  awful. 

VOL.   II  2   B 


370  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
But  I'm  as  good  as — as  good  as — 

'     BLANCHE,  challenging,  while  he  considers 

As  good  as  who  ? 

PAUL. 
Well,  as  good  as  most  men  ! 

BLANCHE,  disgusted. 
That's  far  too  good  ! 

PAUL,  trying  again. 

Then  I'm  as  good  as  Captain  Chanter. 

BLANCHE. 
I  don't  believe  it !      Captain  Chanter's  far  too  good. 

(Then  after  an  instant.)       If   you're    SO    tremendously    VirtUOUS, 

and  you  happen  to  feel  flush,  please  repay  me — 

PAUL. 

The  money  you  so  kindly  lent  me  ?  It  was  a  return- 
ticket.  I  could  neither  have  started  nor  come  back 
without  the  pecuniary  assistance  you  were  so  good  as  to 
render  my  distress ;  but  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  distress 
remains  very  much  what  it  was. 

BLANCHE. 

Then  how  can  you  have  felt  flush  ? 


ACT    THIRD  371 

PAUL. 

By  the  purchase  of  hats  and  coats  and  trousers.     Ready 
made — I  told  them  to  put  them  down. 

BLANCHE,  vague. 

Down  to  me? 

PAUL. 
Down    tO     Mamma.       (Indicating  the  other  objects.)       Put    down 

everything. 

BLANCHE,  exultant. 

Then  you're  gloriously  in    debt !      And    your   mother 
won't  pay. 

PAUL,  decided. 

She'll  hare  to  ! 

BLANCHE,  decided. 

She  shan't ! 

PAUL,  blank. 

Then  who  will  ? 

BLANCHE,  after  an  instant. 

What  if  /  should  ? 

PAUL,  gazing  at  her  with  surprise  and  emotion,  then  bounding  to  her,  seizing 
her  hand,  and  raising  it  again  to  his  lips. 

Angel ! 

Re-enter  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  from  the  garden. 
MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  arrested,  amazed. 

Paul! 


372  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL,  with  undisturbed  self-possession  and  good-humour. 

I  was  saluting  Miss  Amber  in  the  joy  of  my  return. 
Permit  me,  under  the  influence  of  the  same  emotion,  to 
extend  to  you,  dear  Mamma  (approaching  her  with  open  arms),  an 
embrace  more  comprehensive. 

Re-enter  Mr.  BONSOR  from  the  library. 

MR.    BONSOR,  arrested,  amazed,  while  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  bewilderedly 
submits. 

Mrs.  Doubleday ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  confounded,  but  bridling  and  indicating  BLANCHE. 

I  found  him  kissing  her  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  aghast,  as  PITT  BRUNT  reappears. 

Her? 

Re-enter  PITT  BRUNT  from  the  library. 
PITT  BRUNT,  echoing,  indignant. 

Her? 

BLANCHE,  exalted,  audacious,  passing  in  front  of  PITT  BRUNT  on  her 
way  up  left. 

Her  what?     Her  finger-tips  ! 

PAUL,  to  PITT  BRUNT,  laughing. 

Aren't  even  the  finger-tips  more  than  ever  you've  got 
at  ? — How  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Bonsor  ?  Noticed  my  little 
break  ? — remarked  my  lucid  interval  ?  (Then  as  the  others 

exchange  expressions  of  stupefaction.)       Deplored    it,   then,   bewailed 

it,  felt  it  in  the  seat  of  sensibility  ?  Very  charming  of 
you  all ! 


ACT    THIRD 


373 


MR.   BONSOR. 

If  you  designate  by  those  extraordinary  terms  your  un- 
accountable absence,  I  have  only  to  observe  that,  though 
it  has  been  briefer  than  we  apprehended,  we've  been 
amply  occupied  in  considering  the  questions  with  which 
we  should  find  ourselves  confronted  on  its  coming  to  an 
end. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

If  it  should  come  to  an  end  ! 

PAUL,  surprised,  amused. 

If  it  should  ?     Why,  what  did  you  think  I  was  in  for  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

We  didn't  permit  ourselves  to  name  it ! 

MR.  BONSOR. 
You  mean  not  to  each  other. 

PITT  BRUNT. 
Only  to  hint  it  to  a  third  person. 

BLANCHE,  who  has  come  down  smiling,  on  the  right. 

And  yet  draw  the  line  at  a  fourth  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
That  line,  Blanche,  is  not  yet  effaced. 

PAUL,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY. 

Did  you  miss  the  usual  forms  of  separation  ?     You  see 

I    had    tO    pop    Off.       (Then  as  they  are  again  visibly  startled.)       To 


374  THE    REPROBATE 

catch  the  4.40 — the  particular  train  I  wanted  !  I  re- 
quired those  hours  in  town,  don't  you  know? — there 
were  things  I  had  imperatively  to  do.  But  I  put  on  a 
spurt — I  managed  to  rush  them  through  ! 


MR.   BONSOR. 
You  speak  as  if  they  had  been  odious  necessities  ! 

PAUL. 

There's  no  doubt,  Mr.  Bonsor,  they  were  necessities, 
and  distinctly  urgent  ones ;  but,  urgent  as  they  were,  it 
would  indeed  be  wide  of  the  mark  to  call  them  in  the 
least  odious.  In  fact  the  whole  thing  was  a  treat ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Paul! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Blanche  !  Please  leave  the  room.  (To  PITT  BRUNT.)  He 
has  really  reached  a  point — 

PITT  BRUNT. 

That  embarrasses  even  me.  (Opening  the  lower  door  on  the  right 
for  BLANCH^.)  Your  retreat. 

PAUL,  opening  for  her  with  a  laugh  the  door  of  the  library. 

Spare  my  blushes  ! 


BLANCHE,  between  the  doors  a  moment,  then  at  PAUL'S,  giving  him  a  brush 
in  the  face  with  her  bouquet. 

Reprobate ! 

Exit  BLANCHE  AMBER  to  the  library. 


ACT    THIRD  375 

PAUL. 

You  see  it  was  the  first  time  for  years,  and  there  wasn't 
a  single  moment  of  it  that  hadn't  its  appreciable 

quality  !  (Then  while  Mrs.  DOUBLED  AY  and  Mr.  BONSOR  indulge  in  mani- 
festations of  increasing  dismay.)  Whatever  delights  the  future 
may  hold  for  me,  I  feel  I  never  shall  forget  the  rapture 
of  those  hours.  Everything,  in  such  a  case,  conspires 
to  intensify  the  bliss  :  it's  the  sort  of  thing  that,  as  I 
may  say,  don't  you  know  ?  one  makes  for  ever  one's  own  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Mrs.  Doubleday,  shall  I  face  it  alone  ? 


PITT  BRUNT,  springing  to  the  lower  door  on  the  right,  which  he  holds 
open  for  her. 

While  you  step  in  here  ! 


MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

I  think  I  shall  suffer  less  if  you  step  in  there.     (To  Mr. 
BONSOR.)     Tell  him  to  leave  us. 

PITT  BRUNT,  disconcerted. 

Then  I'll  mingle  my  innocence  with  Miss  Amber's. 

PAUL,  checking  him  with  a  gesture  as  he  crosses  to  the  library. 

My  dear  fellow,  I  wish  to  mingle  mine  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

After  this  extraordinary  exhibition  of  your  having  none  ? 


376  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL,  arrested,  chagrined. 

Ah  yes — for  her  !     (To  PITT  BRUNT.)    What  I  mean  is,  don't 
you  know  ?  that  I  aspire  to  her  myself. 

PITT  BRUNT,  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

I  believe  he's  still  drunk  ! 

PAUL,  at  the  lower  door  on  the  right,  which  he  holds  open  for  PITT  BRUNT. 

In  vino  veritas — when  I'm  drunk  I'm  pressing ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  crossing  at  last  to  the  door,  where  he  stands  again  an 
instant  with  his  eyes  on  PAUL. 

Reprobate ! 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT. 
PAUL. 

And  where,  all  this  while,  is  the  dear  old  Captain  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  with  high  significance. 

That's  what  I  should  like  particularly  to  know  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
He  has  not  returned  from  London. 

PAUL,  surprised. 

What's  he  doing  in  London  ? 

MRS.  DOUBLEDAY. 
I  wish  you  would  find  out ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
He  went  up  to  track  you. 


ACT    THIRD  377 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

But  he  has  given  you  up. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

Prematurely,  we  can't  but  think. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

He  reports  that  you've  disappeared. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
For  ever — with  a  female. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

The  same  female. 

PAUL. 

The  old  female — Nina  ? 

MRS.  DOUBLEDAY,  alert. 
Is  she  old,  Dudley  ? 

PAUL. 

Dear  me,  yes — about  your  age.     And  she's  here. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
You  brought  her  back  ? 

PAUL. 
I  didn't  take  her  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
And  she  didn't  take  you  ? 


378  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL,  with  a  gesture  of  repudiation  ;  almost  wounded. 

How  could  she  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  with  deepening  uneasiness. 

Then  what's  she  here  for  ? 

PAUL,  bethinking  himself. 

Perhaps  after  all  she  has  gone. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Perhaps  after  all  she  hasn't !     You'll  be  so  good  as  to 
find  out. 

MR.    BONSOR,  astonished. 

You  wish  to  throw  them  together  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

I  wish  to  keep  them  apart ! 

PAUL,  vague. 

Of  whom,  Mamma,  do  you  speak  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

I  speak  of  Captain  Chanter  ! 

PAUL,  after  an  instant ;  diplomatic. 

There's  plenty  of  time. — He  reports  that  I've  vanished  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 
He  wires  that  you're  practically  extinct. 


ACT    THIRD  379 

PAUL. 

Does  he  take  me  for  a  species — or  for  a  volcano  ?  In 
the  latter  case  I'm  in  lively  eruption  ! 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  suspicious. 

Why  hasn't  he  mentioned  the  position  of  the  second 
crater  ? 

PAUL. 

The  lady  to  whom  we  just  alluded  ? — The  second  crater's 

temporarily    quiet.         (At  the  table  on  which  he  caused  his  parcels  to  be 

deposited.)  Such  a  pity  the  Captain's  away — I've  brought 
him  a  charming  present :  a  couple  of  French  novels — 
the  last  things  out. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

And  pray  where  have  you  picked  up  such  insidious 
productions  ? 

PAUL. 

In  Leicester  Square — such  a  funny  little  shop. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
The  contents  of  which  you  also  appropriated — 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  as  he  hesitates. 

When  the  proprietor  didn't  happen  to  be  looking ! 

PAUL,  staring;  then  laughing. 
YOU  mean    I    bagged    them?       (With  two  other  mementoes  from  the 

table.)    Yes,  and  I  prigged  something  for  each  of  you  ! 


380  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  with  her  present,  opening  a  small  case. 

A  massive  bracelet  ? 

MR.    BONSOR,  doing  the  same. 

And  an  expensive  pin  ? 

PAUL. 

So  glad  you  like  them  !     I  had  them  booked. 

MR.   BONSOR. 
And  how  will  you  pay  for  them  ? 

PAUL. 

Why,  as  one  always  pays — out  of  income. 

MRS.  DOUBLEDAY,  triumphant. 

You  haven't  got  any  income  ! 

PAUL. 
I  shall  have  a  very  good  one  when  we  settle. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

That  will    be  ten    years   hence.      We   don't   settle  till 
you're  forty. 

PAUL. 

My  dear  Mr.  Bonsor,  I  am  forty. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
Since  when  ?     You  were  thirty  last  week. 


ACT    THIRD  381 

PAUL. 

So  I  was.      But  I've  grown. 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Ten  years — in  a  week  ? 

PAUL. 

Ten  years  in  an  hour  !     I'm  of  age, 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  aghast 

To  cease  to  be  looked  after? 

PAUL. 

To  begin  to  look  after  you.  I  am  beginning — I  have 
begun.  So  you'll  pay  me  up. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
The  wages  of  sin  ? 

PAUL. 

I  really  think  the  only  sin  is  the  sin  of  impertinence  ! 
Don't  you  so  much  as  thank  me  for  the  reward  of  yours  ? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Your  mother  will  hardly  go  through  such  a  form  for  an 
ornament  she  is  incapable  of  retaining.  She  will  take 
it  back — 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  who  has  slipped  the  bracelet  over  her  arm,  where 

she  has  complacently  regarded  it ;  after  a  little  renunciatory  wriggle 

at  the  clasp. 

As  soon  as  I  succeed  in  removing  it.  And  Mr.  Bonsor 
will  only  keep  his  pin — 


382  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
To  stick  into  me  when  he's  vicious  ?     I  warn  him  that 

I've    Ceased  tO    be   a    pin-CUShion!       (With  an  illustrated  "  society- 
paper,"  which  he  hands,  open,  to  Mr.  BONSOR.)       There's  Something 

just  out ! — for  the  member  for  Blackport. 

MR.    BONSOR,  with  the  coloured  cartoon. 

"  The  Idol  of  the  North  "—  ! 

PAUL. 
Putting  in  an  hour  ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 
I'll  pass  it  on  to  Blanche. 

PAUL. 

Don't  do  that :   it's  too  awfully  like  !     (Taking  from  his  pocket 
a  small  paper.)     That's  the  figure  of  what  I've  spent. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  with  the  paper,  in  dismay,  to  Mr.  BONSOR. 

Seventy  pounds  ! 

PAUL. 

Nine  and  sevenpence.     I'll  trouble  you  for  a  cheque. 

MR.    BONSOR,  with  the  paper,  after  an  instant,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY. 

Will  you  write  one  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  indignant,  at  the  window. 

Never  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  to  the  garden. 
PAUL. 

Will  you  ? 


ACT    THIRD  383 

MR.    BONSOR,  at  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 

Never ! 

Exit  Mr.  BONSOR.    Enter  Captain  CHANTER  from  the  hall. 
PAUL. 

Hang  it  then,  \vi\\you? 

CHANTER,  aghast. 

You're  not  off  with  her,  as  I  instructed  you  ? 

PAUL. 

I'm  no  more  off  than  she  is.     I'm  to  call  on  her. 

CHANTER,  frantic. 

Then  by  all  that's  desperate,  call ! 

PAUL. 
There's  no  hurry,  my  dear  fellow.     Nina  won't  go  ! 

CHANTER. 

She'll  go  if  you'll  go.     You  told  me  so  yourself! 

PAUL. 

Yes,  but  I  won't — that's  what   I've  an  appointment  to 

make      her      Understand.          (Then   on   a  wild   motion   of  despair  of 

CHANTER'S.)     If  you  thought  we  had  bolted,  why  did  you 

give  chase  ? 

CHANTER. 

To  speed  you  on  your  way — to  smother  your  remorse. 
You  promised  to  save  me,  and  I've  been  living  in  the 
blind  confidence  that  I  was  saved  ! 


384  THE    REPROBATE 


You  shall  be  if  you  keep  your  head — if  you'll  do  exactly 
what  I  tell  you.  In  the  first  place,  you  must  assist  me 
with  Miss  Amber.  You  must  not  let  her  find  out  that 
I  ain't  what  I  thought. 

CHANTER. 
Nor  what  I  thought,  either  !     I  thought  I  could  trust 

you  ! 

PAUL. 

You  thought  I  had  every  vice.  So  did  I,  till  I  was  put 
to  the  test.  You  put  me  to  it  yourself — you  proved  me 
utterly  wanting.  But  it's  the  fond  belief  that  I'm  a 
splendid  Satan  that's  the  singular  source  of  her  interest. 

CHANTER. 

That  interest  is  quenched,  then,  from  the  moment  you 
moon  about  here.  The  way  to  impress  her  is  obviously 
to  do  something  Satanic. 

PAUL. 

A  good  way  to  begin,  then,  will  be  to  keep  a  devil  of  an 
eye  on  you.  You're  indispensable  to  my  plan. 

CHANTER. 

I  operate  as  a  diversion  to  Mrs.  Doubleday  ! 

PAUL. 
If  you'll  direct  her  activity  into  a  different  channel — 


ACT    THIRD  385 

CHANTER. 

You'll  also  find  a  different  one  for  Nina's  ?  What 
channel  is  there — 

PAUL. 

But  the  one  from  Dover  to  Calais  ?  I'll  find  one,  if  I 
have  to  dig  it !  Leave  me  to  do  so. 

CHANTER,  uneasy. 

With  Nina  all  over  the  place  ? 

PAUL. 

I'm   all   over   the   place  !      Do   as  I  tell   you.     (Then  as 

CHANTER  still  stands  reluctant ;  authoritative.)  Go  to  yOUr  TOOm  ! 
(Exit  Captain  CHANTER  with  quick  docility  to  the  hall.  Re-enter  Mr.  BONSOR 
by  the  lower  door  on  the  right.)  Have  yOU  COme  tO  tell  me  yOU 

will  write  the  cheque  ? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

For  half  the  amount — on  a  condition.  That  of  your 
withdrawing  your  opposition — 

PAUL. 

To  the  Idol  of  the  North  as  an  active  rival  ?  (Thinking, 
amused.)  For  thirty-five  pounds  ? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

Four  and  ninepence  ha'penny.  Permit  him  regular 
access — 

PAUL. 

To  the  young  lady  he  bores  ?     Not  for  the  money  ! 

VOL.  II  2  C 


386  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.    BONSOR,  disappointed. 

Then  on  what  terms  can  we  arrange  it  ? 

PAUL,  up  at  the  door  to  the  hall  as  BLANCHE  re-appears. 

Ask  the  young  lady  herself ! 

Exit  PAUL  DOUBLEDAY.     Re-enter  BLANCHE  AMBER  from  the  library. 
BLANCHE,  with  her  bouquet. 

I  must  delay  no  longer  to  put  my  flowers  into  water. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

I  beg  you  to  come  back  then  as  soon  as  you've  supplied 
them  with  a  sustenance  of  which  I  decline  to  regard 
them  as  deserving.  The  member  for  Blackport — 

BLANCHE. 
What  on  earth  does  he  want  now  ? 

MR.    BONSOR. 

What  you've  never  yet  frankly  given  him — the  chance 
to  catch  your  eye. 

BLANCHE. 
Dear  uncle,  I'm  not  the  Speaker ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

He'll  make  you  feel  like  the  House  itself.  And  when 
the  House  divides — 

BLANCHE,  laughing. 

I  Shall  be  in  the  right  lobby  !  (Then  as  she  sees  PITT  BRUNT  : 
re-enter  PITT  BRUNT  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right.)  I'll  be  back  ! 

Exit  BLANCHE  AMBER  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 


ACT    THIRD  387 

PITT  BRUNT,  anxious. 

And  where'll  he  be  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

It  will  be  impossible  henceforth  to  calculate  with  any 
exactness.      Hitherto  we've  done  it  to  a  second. 

PITT  BRUNT,  aggrieved. 

You  should  really  have  taken  him  in  hand ! 

MR.   BONSOR. 

The  way  to  begin  was  by  taking  that  woman. 

PITT  BRUNT,  after  a  moment. 

That  may  possibly  be  the  way  to  end  ! 

MR.  BONSOR,  struck. 

It  might  be — all  the  more  that  she's  somewhere  about. 
(After  an  instant.)     I  suppose  her  attractions  are  pronounced. 

PITT   BRUNT,  prompt. 

Very  easily,  with  a  little  practice ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  surprised. 

Then  you've  seen  her? 

PITT  BRUNT,  on  his  guard. 

Not  to  know  it  was  she  !     But  if  she's  somewhere  about, 
her  confederate  must  also  be. 


388  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.    BONSOR,  at  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 

Thank  heaven,  he  can't  be  in  two  places  at  once ! 

Exit  Mr.  BONSOR. 
PITT  BRUNT,  alone. 
My     Only     COmfort  !          (Then   thinking,   bewildered.)          Yet      he 

behaves  as  if  he  wanted  them  both  ! 

Re-enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall. 
CUBIT,  announcing. 

Mrs.  Freshville  ! 

Enter  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE.    Exit  CUBIT. 
MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

You  here  still  ?     How  d'ye  do  to-day  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  never  feel  quite  fit  when  I  haven't  put  in  my  hour. 

MRS.  FRESHVILLE. 
I've  come  to  put  in  mine — I'm  tired  of  messing  about. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  heard  just  now  you  were  messing — 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  amazed. 

The  man  has  the  cheek  to  mention  it  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Oh  no,  he  doesn't   mention   it — but  the  whole  thing's 
known. 


ACT    THIRD  389 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  alert. 
Then  how  does  the  woman  take  it  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  deprecating. 

She's  scarcely  a  woman —  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  impatient. 

I  know — she's  a  monster  !     What  does  she  make  of  it  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

You're  severe  !  But  she  doesn't  make  quite  so  much  of 
it  as  you  might  expect.  She  takes  it  rather  easy.  In 
fact  you  might  suppose  she  almost  likes  it ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  astounded. 

Likes  his  goings  on  with  me  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Then  they've  been  as  bad  as  we  all  suppose  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

They've  been  beyond  everything  that  ever  was !  (With 
renewed  stupefaction.)  She  likes  his  being  engaged  to  another 
woman  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  surprised. 

Do  you  mean  to  say  he's  literally  engaged  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

As  much  as  a  man  ever  was  in  the  world.  Engaged  up 
to  his  eyes — engaged  down  to  his  boots  ! 


390  THE    REPROBATE 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Happily  I  don't  think  she  knows  that ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Then  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  telling  her ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  daresay  it  will  produce  some  effect.     She  doesn't  mind 
anything  except  that. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Except  marriage — or  the  next  thing  to  it?     And  she 
calls  herself  a  respectable  woman  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  wincing  ;  after  an  instant. 

I'm  bound  to  say  she's  very  hard  to  shock. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Put  it  stronger.     She's  a  monster  of  what-do-you-call-it ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  at  a  loss. 

Do  you  call  it  paradox  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I  call  it  immorality  !     But  wasn't  I  jolly  right  to  come  ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Do  you  argue  that  he'll  see  you  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

Not  if  he  can  help  it !     But  I  -argue  that  I'm  perfectly 
visible.     Where  do  you  suppose  he  is  ? 


ACT    THIRD  39I 

PITT  BRUNT,  looking  at  his  watch  ;  melancholy. 

I'm  afraid  he's  somewhere  with  her. 


MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Don't  take  it  harder  than  /  do  !  (After  an  instant.)  Could 
you  bring  us  together  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  vague. 

You  and  him  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Me  and  her. 

PITT  BRUNT,  disconcerted. 

Dear  no — not  that ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Well,  you  needn't  scratch  my  eyes  out !  (Holding  up  several 
of  CHANTER'S  letters.)  It  will  do  quite  as  well  to  hand  her 
these.  His  letters — nine  of  'em — breathing  every  vow. 

PITT  BRUNT,  with  the  letters  ;  alert. 

Vows  of  passion — vows  of  marriage  ? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Vows  of  everything  on  earth — and  every  vow  a  lie. 
Poke  'em  in  her  face. 

PITT  BRUNT,  intensely  eager. 

I'll  poke  'em  !     But  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  ? 


392  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESH VI LLE. 

Thank  me  for  nothing  !     I  didn't  do  it  for  you  !     (Then  as 

CUBIT  reappears :  re-enter  CUBIT  from  the  hall.)      That  way  ? 
PITT  BRUNT,  surprised. 

You're  going  off? 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

I'm  going  on.     (Up  at  the  door  to  the  hall.)     Work  her  up  ! 

Exeunt  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  and  CUBIT  to  the  hall. 
PITT  BRUNT,  as  BLANCHE  reappears. 

I'll  work  her  up  ! 

Re-enter  BLANCHE  AMBER  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 

BLANCHE. 
My  uncle  has  just  told  me  you  wish  to  catch  my  eye. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

In  order  to  direct    it,   Miss  Amber,   to    unprecedented 
documents. 

BLANCHE,  smiling. 

Parliamentary  papers  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 
Not  exactly  Blue    Books  !       (Giving  her  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE'S  letters.) 

I  place  them  in  your  hands. 

BLANCHE,  with  the  letters,  vague. 

You  mean   I'm  to  look  them  through  ?      But  they're 

letters they're    private.       (Then  after  hastily  glancing  at  a  word  here 

and  there.)     They're  all  about  love  ! 


ACT    THIRD  393 

PITT  BRUNT. 
They're  all  about  marriage — you'll  easily  see !    . 

BLANCHE. 
I  don't  want  to  see — especially  if  they're  yours  ? 

PITT  BRUNT. 

How  can  you  think  they're  mine  when  you  know  my 
hand  ? 

BLANCHE,  with  a  look  at  the  letters  again. 

Yes — it's  a  better  hand  than  yours  !  (Then  suddenly  tossing 
them  down.)  But  I  never  read  such  stuff! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

They  may  well  bring  the  blush  to  your  cheek,  but  I 
regret  to  be  obliged  to  deepen  it ! — You  haven't  seen 
that  writing  ? 


BLANCHE,  with  a  letter  that  is  out  of  its  envelope,  trying  ineffectually  to 
remember,  then  suddenly  catching  sight  of  something. 

Oh  yes,  I  recall  a  name ! 


PITT  BRUNT,  exultant. 

May  I  inquire  what  name  ? 

BLANCHE. 

The  name  that  was  on  his  photograph. 

PITT  BRUNT,  struck. 

He  has  given  you  his  photograph  ? 


394  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
Oh  yes.     That  is  he  hasn't ! 

PITT  BRUNT. 

But  you  recognise  the  writer  ? 

BLANCHE,  troubled,  uncertain. 

Mr.  Paul  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  triumphant. 

Mr.  Paul ! 

BLANCHE,  with  emotion,  thinking. 

"  Dudley  "  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  vague. 

Dudley  ? 

BLANCHE,  after  another  glance  at  the  open  letters. 

It's  the  pet  name.     "  To  his  Nina  "  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  at  the  door  of  the  library ;  impressive. 

Say,  Madam,  to  his  miserable  victim  ! 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT. 
BLANCHE,  alone,  agitated. 

He  makes  victims — and  makes  them  miserable  ?     (Hastily 

gathering  the  letters  together.)          Who     should     kttOW    it     better 

than  I  ? — But  what  has  Mr.  Brunt  to  do  with  these 
things — how  did  he  ever  get  them  ?  He  gave  them  to 
me  as  a  warning?  (After an  instant.)  Miserable  as  I  am,  I 
reject  the  warning  !  I'll  give  them  back  to  the  writer  ! 

(Then  as  she  sees  PAUL  and  instinctively  puts  the  letters  behind  her.)       Oh, 

Mr.  Paul,  you're  just  the  man —  ! 


ACT    THIRD  395 

Re-enter  PAUL  DOUBLEDAY  from  the  hall,  in  an  elaborate  change  of  costume. 
PAUL,  anxious,  flurried. 

You're  just  the  woman,  Miss  Amber,  but  I'm  trying  to 
track  the  Captain.  I've  something  special  to  say  to  him. 

Re-enter  Captain  CHANTER  from  the  hall. 
CHANTER,  to  PAUL. 

I've  just  seen  Cubit — he  tells  me  you  want  me. 

BLANCHE,  at  the  lower  door  on  the  right,  to  PAUL,  smiling. 

Then  you  don't  want  me ! 

Exit  BLANCHE  AMBER  with  the  letters. 
PAUL,  breathless. 

Mamma  knows  all — she  has  your  letters  ! 

CHANTER,  appalled. 

Nina  has  been  here  ? 

PAUL. 
She  is  here — in  my  retreat. 

CHANTER,  astonished. 

You've  got  one  ? 

PAUL. 

The  Chinese  room — I've  taken  it.  She  arrived — fear- 
fully out  of  patience — as  I  was  on  the  very  point  of 
going  to  her,  and  I  thought  it  best  to  have  her  right  in. 
But  she  had  already  passed  in  the  letters.  She  proclaims 
her  vengeance  on  you  as  successfully  accomplished,  and 


396  THE    REPROBATE 

I  left  her  there  gloating  over  it  to  come  and  warn  you. 
The  fat's  on  the  fire — but  I  told  her  I  can't  oblige  her. 

CHANTER,  rueful,  resentful. 

You  can't  oblige  anybody  !     So  what  the  mischief  is  she 

waiting  for? 

PAUL. 

For  her  photograph — I  mean  for  mine.  You  broke 
your  promise  to  carry  it  to  her,  and  she  declines  to  leave 
the  house  without  it. 

CHANTER. 
How  could  I  carry  it  to  her  when  I  couldn't  find  it  ? 

PAUL,  looking  blankly  about. 

I'm  in  exactly  the  same  predicament ! 

CHANTER,  helpless,  hopeless. 

So  she's  here  for  the  rest  of  our  lives  ? 

PAUL,  as  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  reappears. 

I'm  terribly  afraid  not ! 

Re-enter  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  from  the  garden.  Instantly  astonished  by  the 
presence  of  CHANTER,  she  hurries  down  toward  him ;  then,  between  the  two 
men,  stopping  short,  looks  with  sudden  wonderment  and  suspicion  from  one 
of  them  to  the  other. 

CHANTER,  embarrassed,  confused,  but  trying  to  meet  her. 

Dearest  friend ! 


MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  retaining,  with  resentment  and  severity,  possession 
of  the  hand  he  tries  to  kiss. 

Your  dearest  friend  has  come  to  get  you  !    (Then  as  CHANTEF 


ACT    THIRD  397 

exchanges  with  PAUL  a  look  of  confirmed  dismay.)       YOU   gtOSSly  desert 

your  dearest  friend ! 

CHANTER,  collapsing,  pleading. 

I  know  that  my  conduct  has  been  dreadful —  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 
I    mUSt    Clear    it    Up    with    yOU.       (Indicating  the  garden.)       I've 

been  perched  there  on  the  lookout. 

PAUL. 

His  arrival  happened  to  escape  your  notice — it  has  just 
taken  place. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Long  enough  ago  for  me  to  remark  that  his  first  impulse 
has  not  been  the  impulse  to  fly  to  me. 

PAUL. 

He  was  in  the  very  act  of  spreading  his  wings  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

It  has  come  home  to  me  since  your  own  return  that  he 

Spread    them    very  wide    in    town.       (Then  to  CHANTER,  while  he 
exchanges  with  PAUL  another  woeful  regard.)       YOU  566  the  Condition 

in  which  your  pupil  has  reappeared?     Your  responsi- 
bilities sit  very  light ! 

PAUL. 

He  has  just  been  explaining  to  me  that  he  has  every 
intention  to  meet  them. 


398  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

They  have  increased  tremendously  this  morning,  and  he 
shall  presently  hear  from  me  on  the  subject.  In  the 
meantime  he'll  go  to  my  room  and  ask  my  maid  for  a 
precious  packet,  conspicuous  on  the  mantel-piece,  sealed 
with  large  red  seals  and  containing  papers  of  grave 

importance.       (To  CHANTER,  who  stands  bewildered  while  PAUL  goes  up 

in  agitation.)  You'll  take  them  straight  to  my  boudoir,  and 
we'll  go  through  them  together,  (with  high  resolution.)  We'll 
have  it  right  over  ! 

CHANTER,  lingering,  paralysed. 

I  see  what  you  mean ! 

PAUL,  coming  down  again,  with  irrepressible  authority. 

Then  march  ! 

Exit  CHANTER,  startled,  with  a  rush  of  desperation,  to  the  hall. 
MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  who  has  massively  seated  herself. 

What  did  you  remark  to  him  ? 

PAUL,  familiar,  gay. 

I  remarked,  my  dear  lady,  that  there's  no  resisting  you ; 
and  there  evidently  isn't,  unless  a  fellow's  like  me.  But, 
you  know,  I'm  adamant,  whereas  the  Captain's  all  fiddle- 
strings  and  moonbeams.  (Then  as  she  stares,  astounded  at  his  new 

tone.)  There's  one  thing,  however,  you  know — you 
mustn't,  as  I  may  say,  presume,  you  mustn't  stake  every- 
thing, on  the  force — or,  as  you  would  perhaps  yourself 
prefer  to  call  it,  the  charm — of  your  certainly  remarkable 
personality.  You'll  tell  me  it  has  seen  you  through  often 


ACT    THIRD  399 

enough  to  show  you  how  far  you  can  go ;  and  I  fully 
recognise  that  time  has  given  it  those  comfortable  curves, 
those  generous  gradients  over  which  the  railroad  of  social 
intercourse  may  be  laid  at  an  expense  not  incompatible 
with  the  hope  that  it  will  pay.  You  can  go  a  certain 
length,  Mamma,  you  can  achieve  certain  runs — but  you 
can't  make  the  time  you  did  !  A  road  may  be  well  kept 
up,  but  if  you  go  in  for  heavy  traffic  you  must  lay  your 
account  with  a  smash.  Don't  therefore,  as  I  say,  don't 
magnify  small  accidents.  Don't  cry  out  about  a  collision 
when  there  has  only  been  a  casual  bump !  (Laughing, 
flattering.)  Your  casual  bumps,  Mamma,  certainly  oughtn't 
to  bruise  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  rising  in  stupefaction. 

You  take  advantage,  sir,  of  the  absence  of  the  few  pro- 
tectors I  possess — ! 

PAUL,  good-humoured,  imperturbable. 

Only  to  enjoin  upon  you  not  to  make  too  much  of  such 
things. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  after  an  instant. 

Of  what  things,  I  beg  to  know,  are  you  indecent  enough 
to  speak  ? 

PAUL. 

Why,  for  instance,  of  those  trashy  papers. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Pray,  do  you  take  into  account  their  authorship  ? 


400  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL. 

It's  just  their  authorship  that  makes  them  mere  hyper- 
bole! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  after  another  moment. 

Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  what  you're  talking 
about  ? 

PAUL,  surprised. 

The  letters  you  sent  the  Captain  for. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

What's  your  reason  for  calling  them  letters  ? 

PAUL,  checked,  embarrassed. 

'  I  don't  insist  on  the  name.     Outbursts  of  momentary 
ardour. 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  very  alert. 

Then  /  insist  on  the  name  ! — What  abyss   have  you 
unguardedly  opened  ? 

PAUL,  after  an  instant. 

What  are  the  papers  you  are  to  go  over  with  the  Captain  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Instructions  from  the  late  Mr.  Doubleday — drawn  up  in 
view  of  the  contingency  which  has  now  presented  itself. 

PAUL. 
That  of  your  chucking  up  his  son  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

That  of  your  "  chucking  up  "  his  widow  ! 


ACT    THIRD  401 

PAUL,  amused. 

Something    seems    to    tell    me    the    instructions    are 
voluminous  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

I've  every  confidence.     But  it's  a  mystery  I've  always 
respected.     The  large  red  seals  are  intact. 


And  you  propose  to  delegate  to  the  Captain  the  office 
of  breaking  them  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

After  first  assuring  myself  that  he  is  really  worthy  of  it. 

(Then  after  an  instant,  abrupt,  distressfully  appealing,  with  a  complete  change 

of  tone  and  manner.)     Paul — is  he  really  worthy  ? 

PAUL,  laughing. 

Doesn't  it  strike  you  I'm  an  extraordinary  person  to  ask  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

You're  the  person  who  knows  most  about  such  things. 

PAUL. 

Let  me  inquire  in  turn  what  things  you're  talking  about. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

The  horrible  things  men  do.     You've  betrayed  him — 
and  he  has  betrayed  himself. 

PAUL. 

I've  never  betrayed  anybody,  and  I  can  promise  you  I 

never  will !     We'll  respect  the  mystery  of  the  late  Mr. 

VOL.  n  2  D 


402  THE    REPROBATE 

Doubleday's  instructions — we'll  keep  our   hands   from 
the  large  red  seals. 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

You  practically  proclaim,  then,  that  the  Captain's  are 

impure  ?       (With  another  outburst  of  entreaty.)       Paul,  who    IS    the 

woman  to  whom  he  has  been  writing  ?     (Then  as  PAUL  throws 

up  his  arms  in  embarrassed  repudiation.)       I'll    draw    yOU    a    cheque 

for  half  the  amount  of  your  bills. 

PAUL. 
Thirty-five  pounds  ? 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

Four  and  ninepence  ha'penny — if  you'll  tell  me  the  truth. 

PAUL,  thinking. 

The  real  truth  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY,  ardent. 

The  whole  truth  ! 

PAUL,  after  another  moment. 

Not  for  the  money  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  indignant,  flouncing  off. 

I'll  get  it  from  him  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  to  the  hall. 

PAUL,  alone,  disconcerted. 

She'll    break  with    him  !       (Then,  alarmed,  as  Mr.  BONSOR  reappears  : 
re-enter  Mr.  BONSOR  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right.)      Mr.  BonSOr,  Will 

she  break  with  him  ? 


ACT    THIRD  403 

MR.    BONSOR. 

My  ungovernable  niece  ?  I'm  sorry  to  have  to  recognise 
that  she  has  already  practically  done  so.  She  has 
levelled  against  my  young  friend  an  accusation  under 
the  effect  of  which  I  have  fairly  staggered  from  her 
presence — an  accusation  of  conduct — 

PAUL,  as  he  can't  bring  it  out. 

Unparliamentary  ?     What  has  he  done  ? 

MR.   BONSOR. 

I  am  just  looking  for  him  to  inquire.      (Then  as  he  sees 

CHANTER  :  re-enter  Captain  CHANTER  from  the  garden.)     HaVC  yOU  SCCn 

the  member  for  Blackport  ? 

CHANTER. 
He's    in    the    garden.        (Agitated,  blanched,  to  PAUL  as  Mr.  BONSOR 

goes  up.)     I  can't  do  it ! 

PAUL. 
She  hasn't  got  them  ! 

Re-enter  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAV  from  the  hall. 

MRS.    DOUBLED  AY,    with   a  large  sealed  packet  and  with  energy,   as 
CHANTER  moves  quickly  away  from  PAUL  and  she  sees  Mr.  BONSOR  going. 

Mr.     BonSOr  !         (Then  as  he  obediently  comes  down  with  her.)        Be 

present !  That's  more,  apparently,  than  Captain 
Chanter  had  courage  to  be  ! 

PAUL. 

Dear  Mamma,  he  has  come  back  for  you. 


404  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

I've    COme    back    for    him  !      (Then  having  looked  hard  from  one  of 
them  to  the  other ;  holding  out  her  packet  to  CHANTER.)       Break    those 

seals  !     (To  Mr.  BONSOR.)     The  instructions. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

A  new  lot  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 
For  the  new  crisis.     The  supreme  measures. 

MR.    BONSOR,  complacent. 

Our  second  line  of  defence  ! 

PAUL. 
Abandon,  Captain,   your  second  line.     We'll  dispense 

With      the      Supreme      measures.          (Then    as  CHANTER   stares.) 

Touch  the  seals  at  your  peril.     Give  me  the  packet. 

CHANTER,  with  his  packet ;  tormented,  perplexed,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY. 

What  will  be  the  penalty,  love,  of  my  surrendering  my 
precious  charge  ? 

MRS.   DOUBLEDAY. 

The   inevitable    inference    that   you    have    reasons    for 

grovelling     before     your     pupil.          (After  an  instant ;  formidable.) 

He  has  seen  the  fatal  letters. 

MR.    BONSOR,  blank  but  prompt. 

Where  are  they  to  be  seen  ? 


ACT    THIRD 


405 


MRS.    DOUBLEDAY. 

That's   exactly  what   I  want   to   know  !      Paul  doesn't 
deny  the  impeachment. 

CHANTER,  scandalised,  tossing  his  packet  to  a  table. 

Then   I   call  upon  him  instantly  to   do  so.     (To  PAUL.) 
What  letters  does  your  mother  mean  ? 

PAUL,  after  a  moment. 
I  let  the  Cat    OUt    Of  the    bag  !       (Then  as  PITT  BRUNT  reappears.) 

The  fatal  letters  exist ! 

Re-enter  PITT  BRUNT  from  the  garden. 
PITT  BRUNT,  struck,  coming  quickly  down  as  BLANCHE  reappears. 

The  fatal  letters  exist ! 

Re-enter  BLANCHE  AMBER  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 
CHANTER,  amazed,  to  PITT  BRUNT. 

How  the  devil,  sir,  do  you  know  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  arrested,  conciliatory. 

I  hasten  to  explain,  sir,  that  I  don't  attribute  them  to 

you  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  astonished. 

Then  to  whom  in  the  world  do  you  attribute  them  ? 

BLANCHE,  precipitate,  very  loud. 

Ahem  ! 


406  THE    REPROBATE 

PAUL,  while  the  others  stare  in  surprise  at  her  ambiguous  ejaculation. 

I'll  save  Mr.  Brunt  the  trouble  of  saying.     (After  a  moment.) 
The  fatal  letters  are  mine  ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  blank. 

Then  who  in  the  world  has  them  ? 

BLANCHE,  passing  close  to  PITT  BRUNT  ;  privately,  with  ferocity. 

Say  at  your  peril ! 

PAUL,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY. 

I  thought  they  had  come  into  your  hands.     (Then  indicating 
CHANTER.)     Take  him  away  to  beg  his  pardon. 

CHANTER,  to  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY,  smiling. 

Naughty  doubting  dear ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  breathing  again,  but  severe. 

Naughty  frightening  man  ! 

PAUL,  impatient ;  motioning  them  off. 

Oh,  make  it  up  somewhere  else ! 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  startled,  giving  ground,  but  hesitating. 

Without  the  instructions  ? 

PAUL. 

You  evidently  require  no  teaching  !     (Then  highly  authoritative.) 
Go! 


ACT    THIRD  407 

MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  who  has  hurried  up ;  to  CHANTER,  at  the  door 
to  the  hall. 

Come  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY. 
CHANTER,  uneasy  ;  privately  to  PAUL. 

But  the  letters  ? 

PAUL. 

I'll  find  them  ! 

CHANTER,  up  at  the  door  to  the  hall ;  aloud. 

Reprobate ! 

Exit  Captain  CHANTER. 

PAUL,  at  the  left ;  peremptory,  to  Mr.  BONSOR  and  PITT  BRUNT,  who  have 
been  conversing  down  at  the  right. 

Leave  me  alone  with  Miss  Amber ! 

BLANCHE. 

I  require  to  be  alone  with  Mr.  Paul. 

MR.   BONSOR. 

You  will  neither  of  you  have  forgotten  that  /  wish  to  be 
alone — 

PAUL. 

With  the  member  for  Blackport  ?     So  do  //     But  I'll 
take  him  later. 

PITT  BRUNT. 

I  shall  suffer  nothing  to  blind  me  to  the  fact  that  I  have 
still  my  hour  to  put  in. 


4o8  THE    REPROBATE 

MR.   BONSOR. 
On  the  water?     You  can  take  me  out — I'll  join  you 

directly  in  the  garden.      (Then  to  PAUL,  while  PITT  BRUNT,  intensely 
preoccupied,  approaches  BLANCHE.)       Reprobate  ! 

Exit  Mr.  BONSOR  to  the  hall. 

PITT  BRUNT,  to  BLANCHE. 

You  accept  the  shocking  evidence  ? 

BLANCHE. 
Of  an  existing  connection  ? — I  accept  everything  ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  up  at  the  window,  scandalised. 

I  call  it  immorality  ! 


Exit  PITT  BRUNT  to  the  garden. 


BLANCHE,  to  PAUL. 

I  daresay  it  is ;  but  I  forgive  you. 

PAUL,  vague. 

For  saying  such  a  thing  ? 

BLANCHE. 
For  doing  it !     /  have  the  letters  ! 

PAUL,  amazed. 

How  in  the  world —  ? 

BLANCHE. 
In  my  room — from  Mr.  Brunt. 


ACT    THIRD  409 

PAUL,  bewildered. 

How  did  Mr.  Brunt  get  them  ? 

BLANCHE. 

I  give  it  up  !     But  I'm  keeping  them  for  you. 

PAUL,  anxious. 

Don't  "  keep  "  them — bring  them  to  me  !  (Then  checking  her 
as  she  is  going.)  But  there's  something  you  can  keep  for  me. 

(Placing  in  her  hands  the  sealed  packet.)       Keep  this  ! 

BLANCHE,  with  the  packet,  exalted,  at  the  lower  door  on  the  right. 

To  the  death  ! 

Exit  BLANCHE  AMBER.     Re-enter  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  from  the  hall. 
PAUL,  nervous,  curt. 

I've  been  too  busy  to  come  back  to  you — and  I'm  too 

busy  to  converse  with  you  now  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

You're  a  very  superior  person,  Dud ;  but  you  can  be 
awfully  nasty  when  you  like.  You  know  I've  declined 
to  leave  the  house  without  that  memento — doubly  dear 
to  me  now — of  our  brighter  and  happier  hours.  Your 
precious  photo  has  been  appropriated,  and  after  very 
patiently  and  very  vainly  waiting  there  for  you  to  recover 
it  for  me,  I  demand  here  the  production  of  my  property. 

PAUL. 

Accept  as  a  substitute,  my  dear  Nina,  the  assurance 
that  I'll  be  taken  again  ! 


410  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESH VILLE. 

What  I  desire,  Dudley,  is  the  representation  of  your 
more  juvenile  and — since  you  force  me  to  say  so — your 
more  attractive  personality. 

PAUL,  alarmed,  as  PITT  BRUNT  reappears. 

Don't  bring  it  up — there's  some  one  there  ! 

Re-enter  PITT  BRUNT  from  the  garden. 
MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

You  gave  her  the  letters  ? 

PITT  BRUNT,  embarrassed. 

She  has  them  in  her  hands. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

And  what  does  she  say  about  the  shocking  evidence — 

PITT  BRUNT. 

Of  an  existing  connection  ?  She  accepts  it.  She  accepts 
everything  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  stupefied. 

Everything  ?     Then  she's  a  cat ! 

PITT  BRUNT,  emphatic. 

She's  a  cat ! 

PAUL,  smiling. 
No She's  Only  a  woman  in  love  !       (To  PITT  BRUNT,  who  stands 

blank.)     Have  you  come  back  for  something  ? 


ACT    THIRD  411 

PITT  BRUNT. 
For  Mr.  Bonsor — to  put  in  my  hour. 

PAUL. 
I     daresay    he's    dressing.       (Then  with  a  happy  thought ;  inspired.) 

Put  it  in  with  Mrs.  Freshville  ! 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  struck. 

On  the  river — the  dear  old  river? 

PITT  BRUNT,  struck. 

I  put  in  an  hour  each  day.    (After  an  instant,  engaging.)     Could 
you  give  me  as  much  as  that  ? 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  looking  from  PITT  BRUNT  to  PAUL. 

By-bye  ? 

PAUL. 
By-bye  ! 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  giving  her  reticule  to  PITT  BRUNT. 

Stick  it  in  the  boat. 

PITT  BRUNT,  alert,  with  the  reticule ;  up  at  the  window,  to  PAUL. 

Patch  it  up  with  Mr.  Bonsor  ! 

Exit  PITT  BRUNT  to  the  garden. 
MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  after  a  moment ;  thoughtful. 

Not  engaged  ? 

PAUL. 
I  can  answer  for  that ! 


4i2  THE    REPROBATE 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE. 

Much  of  a  swell  ? 

PAUL,  handing  her  from  the  table  the  copy  of  the  "  society-paper." 

The  papers  are  full  of  him. 

MRS.   FRESHVILLE,  with  the  cartoon. 

"  The  Idol  of  the  North  "  ! 

PAUL. 

The  young  man  of  the  hour. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE. 

More  than  ever  you  were  !     By-bye. 

PAUL. 
By-bye. 

MRS.    FRESHVILLE,  with  the  copy  of  the  paper  under  her  arm  ;  up 
at  the  window,  contemptuous,  sarcastic. 

Perfection  ! 

Exit  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE  to  the  garden 
Re-enter  Captain  CHANTER  from  the  hall. 
CHANTER,  anxious. 

Has  she  gone  ? 


PAUL,  coming  down  from  the  window,  indicating  the  garden,  while  CHANTER, 
interrogative,  goes  up,  and  BLANCHE  and  Mr.  BONSOR  reappear. 


She  has  found  an  opening ! 


ACT    THIRD  413 

Re-enter  BLANCHE  AMBER  by  the  lower  door  on  the  right.     Re-enter  Mr. 
BONSOR,  in  boating  costume,  from  the  hall. 

BLANCHE,  with  Mrs.  FRESHVILLE'S  letters,  eager,  to  PAUL. 

Here  are  the  letters  ! 

CHANTER,  struck,  turning,  bounding  down  to  grab  them. 

Mine  ! 

PAUL,  smiling,  having  seized  them  first. 

Mine  ! 

CHANTER,  to  BLANCHE,  resentful. 

You  should  have  given  them  to  me  ! 

BLANCHE. 

They  belong  to  the  writer. 

CHANTER. 
He's  not  the  writer  ! 

BLANCHE,  aghast,  to  PAUL. 

You're  not  the  writer? 

PAUL. 

I  blush  to  confess  it — I'm  so  much  less  bad  than  you 
want  me  ! 

CHANTER. 

He  took  them  on  himself  to  save  his  friend. 

BLANCHE,  struck,  eager. 

He  told  a  glorious  lie  ? 

PAUL,  laughing,  while  he  tosses  CHANTER  the  packet  of  letters. 

Don't  mention  it ! 


4I4  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE,  overjoyed. 

But  I  don't  want  you  any  worse  than  that ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  CHANTER. 

Are  you  very  sure  his  friend  is  saved  ? 

PAUL. 

Not  if  you  basely  blab,  Mr.  Bonsor. 

CHANTER,  confident,  complacent. 

Oh,  he  may  basely  blab  !     (After  an  instant.)     I'm  sure  ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  BLANCHE. 

But  where  did  you  get  them  ? 

BLANCHE. 
From  the  member  for  Blackport. 

MR.   BONSOR,  blank. 

And  where  did  he  get  them  ? 

PAUL. 
From  the  lady  to  whom  they  were  addressed. 

MR.    BONSOR,  startled. 

Nina — the  unspeakable   Nina?      (indignant.)      He   never 
went  near  her ! 

PAUL. 

He's  remarkably  near  her  now — he's  out  on  the  river 
with  her ! 


ACT    THIRD  4,5 


MR.   BONSOR,  stupefied. 

Then  it  was  for  him  the  woman  came  ? 

PAUL. 

She  came  for  a  certain  photograph  ! 

MR.   BONSOR,  struck. 

I  remember !  (Looking  ineffectually  round.)  What  on  earth 
became  of  it  ? 

BLANCHE,  producing  it  from  her  pocket. 

Here  it  is ! 

MR.    BONSOR,  to  the  others,  amazed. 

She  had  it  all  the  while  ? 

BLANCHE,  embarrassed,  hesitating. 

I  took  it  because — because — 

PAUL,  radiant. 

You  must  keep  the  reason  for  me  t 

BLANCHE. 
May  I  tell  him,  uncle  ? 

MR.  BONSOR. 

Tell  him  What  yOU  like  !  (Then  looking  at  her  a  moment  in  be- 
wildered  abstraction,  raising  and  dropping  his  arms  at  his  sides  in  helpless  and 
humiliated  renunciation  and  going  up.)  The  Idol  of  the  North  ! 

PAUL,  ardent,  triumphant,  with  his  two  hands  out. 

Blanche ! 


416  THE    REPROBATE 

BLANCHE,  meeting  him  in  happy  freedom  while  he  takes  both  her  hands  and 
respectfully  kisses  them. 

Paul! 

Re-enter  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  from  the  hall. 
MRS.    DOUBLEDAY,  startled,  instinctive,  loud,  as  before. 

Paul! 

CHANTER,  eager,  as  the  others,  absorbed,  pay  no  attention. 
It's   all    right  !       (Then,  irresistible,  as  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  surrenders  herself 
to  his  endearment.)       Beloved  ! 

PAUL,  suddenly  observing,  good-naturedly  but  loudly  and  ominously  warning, 
while  Mrs.  DOUBLEDAY  gives  a  violent  start. 

Mamma ! 


Printedby  R   &  R.  CLARK,  Edinburgh. 


•666 


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